To Dare
by Paper Pearls
Summary: Immediately after the Battle of Hogwarts, the survivors are left to forge the future. Having come so close to death, Hermione wants to live life to the fullest. Minerva McGonagall is more reluctant. Femmeslash.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my response to Mew-tsubaki's challenge and it is an MM/HG femmeslash set immediately after the conclusion of the Battle of Hogwarts. It is also a response to day 20 of Sinistra Black's "Sheherazad" challenge, 'Epilogue? What Epilogue?' because I hate, hate, hate Hermione/Ron.**

**OoOoO**

"_The loving are the daring." –Bayard Taylor_

Hermione Granger could not pinpoint the exact moment at which she had fallen in love, but that made her no less certain of her feelings. Increasingly during her sixth year Hermione had found herself dwelling upon Minerva McGonagall- a woman who at the time had been her professor and ever since had remained a steadfast friend- and with increasing intensity she had wondered what it would be like to share a kiss with Minerva, to be able to hold her when she was sad or to share in her laughter when she was happy, and Hermione would give anything to know that she _was_ happy.

During the bleakest moments of the months she, Harry and Ron had spent searching for the remaining horcruxes, when her hope and confidence had wavered, Hermione remembered the tranquil afternoons she had spent during the previous year reading or talking quietly with Minerva. Every day she had woken up cold and aching on the floor of her tent, Hermione had remembered the conviction with which Minerva had spoken, the intelligence in those magnificent green eyes, and the ironic curve of her mouth that denoted amusement, a subtle gesture which so many failed to notice, and had known that if anything was worth fighting for it was Minerva McGonagall. No matter how tired of fraught she became, Hermione found that reflecting upon the older witch made their herculean task seem a bearable burden.

Now the fighting was over and Hermione could scarcely bring herself to believe it. She watched as the aurors rounded up and escorted the remaining Death Eaters from the school premises, a breeze blowing the softly curled tendrils of her hair into her face._ The price of their victory had been high. _Hermione wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the cold. She stared into the depths of the lake, not ready to return to the hall; Tonks, so bubbly and animated in life, would be lying there like a statue. Fred would be completely silent, and he would never laugh again. What would George do without his twin? It could never have been said that Hermione felt any fondness for Crabbe, but he had died with so little of his life lived: he would never find love, find a fulfilling career, or achieve his dreams, whatever they may have been...

A tentative hand on Hermione's shoulder caused her to jump and she lost her train of thought. Arthur Weasley smiled thinly, the recent loss of his son dulling his kindly brown eyes. He hesitated for a moment, looking older and more lost than Hermione could recall having seen, before speaking.

"Hermione... you've been standing out here for over an hour now, dear. Come back inside. Molly- we're all worried about you. You've always been as good as family, and now..." He trailed off awkwardly, running a hand through his greying ginger hair. Whether he referred to the death of Fred or her rejection of Ron's advances before the battle, Hermione couldn't be sure.

"Alright, Mr Weasley." She followed him across the grass upon which so many children had lounged in the warmer months, grass that was now soaked with spatters of blood. It was strange thinking of Hogwarts, a school, a place of peace and education, as a battlefield.

_And what of Minerva_? Surely Hermione would have heard if anything had happened to the transfigurations professor considering the role she had played in the war, but up until now she had been too afraid to ask. A lump grew in her throat as they approached the double doors of the great hall. There was no way she could go on if Minerva was lying on one of the tables.

"Mr Weasley, wait!" Horribly uneven, her voice echoed around the hall. He looked at her sympathetically. "I- What about Professor McGonagall; is she alright?"

Arthur's eyes widened in faint surprise, but quickly he recovered himself.

"She's fine, yes. Someone caught her with a nasty slicing hex, but she's back on her feet, as you'd expect from Minerva. She's upstairs just now, talking with the poor Creevey boy's parents." Unaware of the magnitude of Hermione's relief and gratitude, Arthur led her into the hall and towards the other Weasleys. Harry was sat a little farther along the table, surrounded by a swarm of people. He gave a feeble wave as she passed and Hermione attempted to smile, but hearing Ginny's sobs she found that it was impossible. The youngest Weasley was wrapped in the arms of her mother, and the others sat solemnly in a protective ring around Fred's body. Molly's face was drawn, and her eyes red. Hesitantly, Hermione sat beside her best friend who wished to be more.

"Are you alright Ron?" She slid her hand across the bench until it came into contact with his and squeezed. Ron returned the slight pressure and nodded, but said nothing in response. _What was there to say?_ They waited, keeping vigil until the ministry officials would come to collect Fred's body.

After a while, Fleur appeared as pale as a ghost, supporting a grimacing Bill as he came to see his younger brother for a final time. To Hermione's surprise, Mrs Weasley rounded the table and wrapped the French witch in a swift hug. Molly then approached her and Hermione couldn't help but long for her own mother, far away in Australia, as she received her own embrace.

"Thank you for staying with us, Hermione. It would have meant a lot to- to Fred." Although her eyes were overly bright, Molly remained composed. In that moment Hermione knew that her lack of romantic feelings for Ron would not count against her with the Weasley family and was thankful.

"Of course, Mrs Weasley." Hermione was about to sit back down when Molly moved away, but the sound of the doors swinging open attracted her attention. Transfixed, she watched as Minerva McGonagall, the Headmistress of Hogwarts, walked towards them with her usual poise and authority.

During the battle, she had glimpsed Minerva only fleetingly as she had duelled with Bellatrix. The fury with which Minerva had fought had been reassuring enough for Hermione to continue on her way, but ever since that moment she had felt a growing panic that Minerva had been killed. Now she saw it was not so, Hermione couldn't help but shed a few tears of relief. They had not spoken in person for almost a year, but their sporadic written correspondence had allowed Hermione to remain hopeful. When Minerva stopped by Mr and Mrs Weasley, Hermione fought the overwhelming urge to leap to her feet and wrap Minerva in her arms. No matter how close they had become, it was doubtful that the older witch possessed the same inclination towards her.

She observed the exchange between Arthur, Molly and Minerva, not taking in a word of what was said, instead taking in the sight of the woman she had grown to love. Perhaps it was illogical, but the feelings Minerva's arrival had evoked in her were like nothing Hermione had ever experienced. Minerva was clearly exhausted, and judging by the hardened set of her mouth she was in considerable discomfort. _Had Minerva actually been to the healers?_ Ever since the battle had ended, her stern professor had been overseeing the repairs to the most major damages done to the castle, speaking to the loved ones of those who had perished and speaking to numerous ministry employees over what was to be done next. It seemed highly unlikely that Minerva had prioritised her own wellbeing.

The conversation drew to a close, and Professor McGonagall came to stand before her. As she looked up, Hermione's heart skipped a beat.

"Miss Granger..." There was a pause, and the grim expression on Minerva's features softened almost imperceptibly. "Hermione, I am glad to see that you are well."

"You too..." Cursing herself, Hermione knew that no matter how articulate she was she didn't know how to express the millions of thoughts and feelings caused by Minerva McGonagall. The professor nodded and turned on her heel. Nobody paid attention to Hermione as she stood and followed the headmistress from the hall. Minerva raised an eyebrow but did not pass comment.

"Minerva, where are we going?" Hermione had expected them to go to Minerva's office or back outside to meet with one of Kingsley's team of workers, but instead they were going down into the lower levels of the castle.

"The kitchens- I must check to see if the elves have thought to send food to those in the hospital wing." Her body radiated tiredness, yet Minerva's posture remained perfectly upright. Shocked, Hermione grasped her hand and ceased walking, forcing the professor to do the same.

"Hermione, let go. I can't stop now-" Exasperation coloured Minerva's tone and she closed her eyes in an effort to remain calm.

"You can. The house elves have sent food everywhere! Even the aurors outside had sandwiches, the last I heard." Realising that being outwardly stubborn was only likely to agitate Minerva, she continued speaking more quietly. "You still haven't had your wound healed, and I know that you're in pain."

For a moment Minerva was completely surprised, but she quickly recovered herself. It did not go unnoticed that she placed a hand against the stone wall for support.

"How on earth do you know that?" She shook her head impatiently, causing her long black hair to shift around her shoulders. "It doesn't matter, Miss Granger."

"It really does." Hermione ignored the hurt caused by being referred to formally and continued. "Come with me. I can heal you, we can have some food together and then you can sleep, have a nice hot bath, and whatever else you need."

Minerva considered the offer and the temptation was obvious to Hermione, but she did not press the point, instead remaining silent. _What should she do now? _Just as she was beginning to give up hope, Minerva spoke.

"But I can't. Don't you see it? If I stop doing this then I might not be able to keep on going afterwards." Looking away, Minerva tried once again to extract her hand from Hermione's grip. Instead of letting her go, Hermione decided to do something that was potentially very foolish and wrapped Minerva in a firm, slightly uncomfortable hug. She could feel the tension in Minerva's slender body.

"I _know_ you're strong enough to do this, but if you don't rest then you won't be able to do anything to help anyone. I wish I could tell you that everything will be fine, I really do, but do you know what? It won't. So many things have gone wrong and there is nobody,_ nobody_, who could have changed that." Hermione tightened her hold, resisting Minerva's increasingly lacklustre attempts to wriggle free. She knew that Minerva was extremely reserved, and that this trait had erroneously given her a reputation for being cold, but Hermione knew that she had to show her that she was not alone, and this was the only way she could think of to give that message convincingly.

"He could have..." The three words were whispered so quietly that Hermione wondered if she had heard correctly. Placing her amazement to the side, she pulled back enough that she could look Minerva in the eye.

"Professor Dumbledore was a great wizard, but not even he could have saved everyone. The Potters died. Cedric died. Good people died. It wasn't his fault and he couldn't have done anything about it." Hermione prepared to hold on more tightly in case Minerva tried to get away again, but the older witch only placed her head against Hermione's shoulder.

"Do you honestly believe that?" There was vulnerability in those words that made Hermione's heart ache. It seemed ludicrous that nobody had offered Minerva the support that she clearly needed.

"Of course I do, and so should you." Growing bolder, Hermione caressed soothing patterns up and down Minerva's back. Much to her satisfaction, the tension slowly went from Minerva's shoulders. "Now let me take you to your rooms."

"I think that would be prudent, Hermione." It was a sign of how much the proceedings of the past two days had taken from Minerva that she did not raise any more arguments. "Could you... would you please apparate us there? I'll shift the wards."

The request surprised Hermione greatly, but she knew better than to comment. She closed her eyes and pictured the rooms that she had spent every desperate moment envisioning during the previous year and summoned her magic.

Minerva's quarters were not a great deal different from when Hermione had last set foot in them, the familiar mahogany furniture and MacKintosh decor bringing back memories of simpler times, and the only sign that Minerva had left in a hurry was a half full teacup and a book lying open on the coffee table. Hermione eased her companion onto one of the comfortable couches and went to the bathroom in search of medicinal potions. The contents of the cabinet were neatly arranged and so it was without any real difficulty that Hermione found a pain relief potion and some balm for disinfecting it.

Minerva stared determinedly ahead as she unbuttoned her robes. The torn white blouse underneath was covered with dried blood- so much that Hermione felt frightened. Before Minerva could protest, she had unbuttoned it and pushed the fabric aside.

"Drink this." She pressed the phial into Minerva's hand and set about healing the gash that spread from her shoulder to her waist. It was a difficult process, cleansing and healing, and it sapped at the last of Hermione's strength, but she was determined not to complain. It wasn't as though Minerva would ask for anyone's help, even though she clearly needed it. Her patient was uncharacteristically quiet.

Flicking her wand to send the various potions back to their correct places, Hermione saw that Minerva was fast asleep. She looked more peaceful than Hermione had felt in a long time. One of Minerva's hands had fallen from its place on the armrest, and so Hermione clasped it between her own before she could consider the significance of such an action. She waited. It was utterly peaceful here - the safe haven of her dreams - and the only sound filling the room was Minerva's gentle breathing.

Hermione rested her head against the edge of the sofa and allowed herself to be cocooned in the calm atmosphere and, for the first time in almost a year, relax.

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you very much to everyone who took the time to review the last chapter. It was very kind of you, and I'm sorry about how long it has taken me to update. I went on holiday, and I have written not one but two new chapters... in my notebook. I'll type and post as quickly as possible.**

**OoOoO**

When Hermione opened her eyes she did not, as she had expected, see the canvas arch of the tent, but the smooth white expanse of a ceiling, shaded by the night. Stretching, Hermione's hands came into contact with a soft woollen blanket. It seemed that she was lying on a very comfortable sofa. Hermione sat up slowly as she recalled the events of the previous day. _So many people had died._ She shuddered. _Where was Minerva?_ As though summoned by her thoughts, Minerva appeared from behind a door on her right in a fresh set of robes, her hair still loose.

"Hermione, how are you feeling?" Minerva sat beside her, looking down at her hands.

"I'm fine. It's just so strange; the fighting has finished, and I should be happy, but all I can think about is..." Hermione broke off, eyes watering. She didn't resist as Minerva wrapped her in a gentle hug.

"I know exactly what you mean." She didn't have to look to know that Minerva was frowning.

"What happens now?" Hermione crossed her legs and sat, watching the Headmistress of Hogwarts intently. She couldn't remember when she had first noticed it, but Minerva's eyes spoke volumes, and often more than her words – however articulately formed – ever would. Although she looked at them intently, Minerva's eyes would still not meet her own.

"I'm not certain, truth be told. It's almost midnight, and yet I- we haven't eaten in hours, so I think that your earlier suggestion about a having decent meal would be a wise one to follow." With all of her typical grace, Minerva stood and walked to her desk, where she lifted a quill. "What would you like? You used to be fond of soup, chicken soup, if memory serves."

"That would be lovely." Toying with the fringe of her blanket, Hermione watched as Minerva dropped a pinch of floo powder into the fireplace, quickly followed by the parchment. She waited for Minerva to speak again, but instead the older witch busied herself reading a small stack of letters that were piled on her desk.

In a short amount of time, the food arrived and Hermione was surprised by the strength of her own hunger. She ate every mouthful of her soup despite it being almost scalding hot, and tore into the bread with gusto. Ron would have been proud. The thought made Hermione wonder where he and Harry were currently situated. It was as though Minerva read her mind.

"Everyone that fought has been given accommodation in their old houses, but I'd imagine that the members of Dumbledore's Army have returned to the Come and Go room; if you wish to find your friends, then that is where I suggest you look." Although she must have been every bit as hungry as Hermione, Minerva finished the meal at a more sedate pace.

"Thank you, but... what about you? I wouldn't leave you by yourself." Conscious of how her statement could be interpreted, Hermione flushed and trailed her fingertip through the breadcrumbs left on her plate. She missed the brief look of surprise Minerva gave before she was able to school her features into a neutral expression.

"In the morning I have a meeting with Kingsley Shacklebolt, and..." Minerva frowned slightly before waving her wand and banishing their dishes to the kitchen. "You are welcome to stay with me- I know well the value of privacy, and I doubt there is an abundance of it to be found with a large group of your peers."

"Oh, thank you. But I'll only accept if you don't mind." As much as Hermione wanted to remain with Minerva, she didn't like the thought of being a burden.

"Of course not, or I wouldn't have made the offer in the first place, but if you would rather stay with your friends than your old transfigurations professor, I fully understand. You have much to discuss with them, and-"

"No!" For the first time since they had woken up, Minerva looked at Hermione. Her eyebrows were raised, showing her surprise at the vehemence in the younger witch's voice. Hermione felt distinctly uncomfortable, but pressed on regardless. "You're my friend, Minerva. When I was out there, you made me remember who I am. Your letters made me feel so much less... clueless about everything. Now you have a school to rebuild, and I want to help you in whatever way I can."

"Hmm, so much of the school was damaged, and your arsenal of spells would certainly be of use." Minerva gave a wry smile, and Hermione realised that this was the closest she could hope for of an acknowledgement of what she had said. Still, Minerva had taken it on board, and that was enough for her. How _could she every hope to understand Minerva?_ There was so much to her; so many thoughts, so much wisdom, and a life that was almost a complete mystery to Hermione.

"I'll do my best." Being praised in such a way did nothing to lessen Hermione's unease. It wasn't a bad feeling, in fact it was wonderful, but nevertheless Hermione was extremely self-conscious.

"I'd expect nothing less from you. Now, it's late – or early, depending on your prerogative – and there is much to be done. You may use my guest room as you will. I would have told you earlier, but you looked so peaceful sleeping." Minerva correctly interpreted Hermione's suspicious glance. "Yes, I did go to bed and rest."

"Good." Unsuccessfully, Hermione attempted to stifle a yawn.

"My advice would be to familiarise yourself with the bed as soon as possible, Hermione, and don't worry; everything will return to normal. It may take a while, but it will certainly happen." Minerva stood, brushing her shoulder as she passed in a way that could have been accidental or intentional. Hermione didn't know. "It's the door on your left." She watched Minerva retreat into her bedroom and forced herself to think of Harry and Ron. Dwelling on what could never be wouldn't help Minerva, and breaking her own heart certainly wouldn't help Hermione.

More often than not, Minerva was right, and so Hermione decided to investigate the guest room. It was surprisingly large, a four poster bed dominating one wall. There were bookshelves that she fully planned on looking at later, and most impressively, her trunk sat at the foot of the bed. Hermione opened it and dug through its contents until she found her favourite pyjamas, and it was by willpower alone that she managed to change into them. Her teeth could stand to miss one cleaning session, no matter how horrified her parents would be, because she was close to falling asleep standing.

Hermione climbed between the sheets. The softness surrounding her was absolute heaven. There was nothing quite like a proper bed. Although her body was worn out, Hermione's mind was thinking. It was thinking on something – _someone_ – in particular. Through the wall, Minerva would be sleeping. _Did she lie on her back, front or side?_ Closing her eyes, Hermione willed herself to stop being so foolish. _It was sweet torture_. Somehow, Hermione managed to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

**OoOoO**

By the time she had woken up, the sun was shining strongly through the window. It could have been any day during her time as a student. The familiar sense of safety shattered when Hermione remembered. _How could she have forgotten? People were dead._ Much sobered by this train of thought, Hermione washed and dressed without thinking of anything substantial. As she entered the living room, Hermione felt her spirits rise at the prospect of seeing Minerva again. It was empty. Before Hermione could grow too forlorn, a piece of parchment lying on the coffee table caught her attention.

'_Hermione,_

_As you will no doubt have surmised, I have gone to meet the minister. This administration does not face the tribulations the last three, with varying degrees of incompetence, waded through, and I have confidence in Kingsley's aptitude for the position, so I should be back in time for dinner._

_Until then, you have free reign of my rooms, although I'd imagine that you'll wish to catch up with Potter and Weasley. When you wish to return, consider what, or whom, you taught me about stories._

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Headmistress of Hogwarts'_

Hermione smiled fondly, folding the parchment and tucking it into the pocket of her woollen cardigan, before she set out to find Harry and Ron. The hallways were quiet, and had it not been for the debris littering almost every corridor, then it could have been any day during her time at Hogwarts. Before too long, she arrived at her destination. Just as she reached to open the door, it swung outwards to reveal the gangling form of Ronald Weasley, who almost collided with her. He smiled sheepishly, forgetting to close the door behind him. Hermione cast a glance towards it, hoping desperately that Harry would be present and save her from the uncomfortable conversation that would doubtlessly ensue: they had not yet spoken of his attempt to kiss her.

"Hello, Ron." Hermione smiled a little too brightly. Her facial muscles were no longer used to making the gesture. There had been a time when she, Harry and Ron had laughed together at the slightest prompting.

"Hi." His eyes darted between Hermione and the remains of the suit of armour beside her. There was a sullen quality in the set of his jaw. By now Hermione knew that romantic feelings were involuntary – perhaps it would have been easier if she had loved Ron, but it couldn't have been forced – and although she did not feel guilty that his affections were unrequited, Hermione felt a pang at the thought of hurting one of her closest and dearest friends.

"Listen, Ron, I'm really very sorry about... yesterday." As Hermione spoke, he squirmed uncomfortably. "You're a brilliant friend, and I'll always love you, but not in _that_ sense-"

"Why don't we try for a while? Just to see what happens. We could go out a few times, and-" Hermione's heart sank. She bit back her frustration, but couldn't stop herself from interrupting.

"I'm not in love with you and I don't have feelings for you, Ronald!" As soon as the words had left Hermione's mouth, she regretted their volume, if not their content. Ron gaped. The easy hum of chatter in the Room of Requirement had stopped, but thankfully the door swung closed, seemingly of its own volition.

Harry's head appeared along with one hand, quickly followed by the rest of his body. The resultant gladness experienced by Hermione was almost equal to that caused by his heroic defeat of Lord Voldemort.

"How about we go and see Hagrid?" It was clear that Harry had heard her but was unwilling to comment, for which Hermione was endlessly grateful. Seeing a familiar face sounded wonderful, because she was conscious of an almost perpetual sense of anxiety, and so Hermione nodded her assent, as did Ron.

They passed through the halls in silence, and Hermione was sure that the two boys were considering the most recent of their lessons learned in Hogwarts: death. Even in their familiar surroundings, Hermione was overwhelmed by it; the sound of death, a final cry or whimper; the sight of death, the shock and fear caused by a sudden curse; the feel of, the shiver down her spine as someone fell, and the taste of death, acid at the back of her throat. Taking deep gulps of the fresh summer air, Hermione tried to focus on the present, on Harry and Ron _alive_ by her side, and the words they were speaking.

"... so, mum said you'd be welcome at the Burrow." Ron's tone held a brittle, false lightness.

"Are you sure she wouldn't mind after... after..." Harry trailed off, and Fred's presence was heavy around them.

"Oh, I think she just wants to keep busy." Ron coughed, giving a clear end to the discussion about Fred.

"I'm very grateful, but I'm going to stay on and help with the repairs to the school." It was very tempting to go with her friends and allow Mrs Weasley to cocoon her in maternal affection; however, instinct told Hermione that Hogwarts was where she ought to remain. Harry smiled weakly.

"That sounds good too, really good, but everyone's been driving me mad." He looked around sheepishly. "At your house I always feel normal, and I like that."

"I don't think people could grudge you anything right now, Harry." It was nice to think of her friend being immersed in family life, something that he would never take for granted. Neither would Hermione, now. Not after missing them for a year. Hermione longed to see her parents again, to have quiet nights in reading together, or talking about her academic curriculum. As Ron knocked on the door, Hermione's train of thought was interrupted.

Even though he was slightly worse for wear following yet another after-party, Hagrid proved himself to be a genial host. They had all been changed by the war in more ways than they had ever thought possible, and it was good to know that friendships could survive. When they began walking back towards the castle, the sun beginning to set, Hermione felt a fragile confidence that life would improve.

"This is just like it used to be." It wasn't a statement that was intended to detract from what had happened – Ron hadn't given his words thought – but the result was near instantaneous. Hermione felt herself bristle at his false cheer. Before she could say anything else, Harry interjected.

"No. It's not." Harry's eyes looked more tired than she had ever seen them since Dumbledore's funeral. "You know it isn't."

With an air of someone drastically older than the young man she was friends with, Harry stalked off in the direction of the quidditch pitch. Ron started to follow, but Hermione stopped him, grasping his wrist. Realising that he would misinterpret the contact, she quickly withdrew her hand and ignored the look in his eyes, the look that asked for more than she could give.

"What just happened?" Confused, Ron turned to her. Hermione felt too tired to be cross.

"Things _have_ changed, Ron, and that's mostly good. _Mostly_. It's hard for Harry, because for so long this has been his destiny. He's lost friends and family, and he probably feels a bit overwhelmed by the attention he's being given." Hermione sighed. She caught sight of Ginny passing them, red hair rippling in the breeze, and returned her wave, wishing that the sight of his younger sister searching for Harry would not bring Ron's mind back to their own relationship.

"So, if things are changing – can change – would you-" Ron stared at his feet intently. She couldn't let him continue.

"I need to go. I have to speak to..." Hermione muttered an excuse as she began to run up the remaining stairs to the entrance hall. She didn't stop until she reached her sanctuary: the library. It was absolutely quiet, save for Hermione's hesitant footsteps on the marble floor. Shelves had been toppled by dominoes, and hundreds of books littered the ground, their priceless gift of knowledge forgotten in combat. Madam Pince was nowhere to be seen, having been taken to St. Mungo's. _Her injuries must have been severe for her to have left the domain in such a sorry state_. Feeling slightly irreverent, Hermione laughed, immediately feeling guilty. In an attempt to make amends, she climbed onto the table at which she had studied for what felt like every test since the age of eleven, careful not to stand on any books, and surveyed the damage.

Perhaps there were more qualified people for the job, but now the idea had occurred to her, Hermione found that her desire to begin repairing the library overwhelming. She started with the bookshelves first, flicking her wand expertly and watching the gargantuan wooden structures return to their correct state. Hermione then sorted the books into two piles for every section; damaged and undamaged. The task was so consuming that she barely noticed when the sun had set, simply illuminating the domed ceiling with a few spells before continuing.

Had it not been for the sense that she was being watched, Hermione could have continued all night with her self-imposed work. It was impossible to say how long those wise green eyes had been fixed on her; _had it been for a few seconds or several minutes? _Realising that she had been spotted, Minerva started towards her.

"Admirable work, Hermione, for which I'd like to thank you on behalf of Hogwarts; I am now, officially, headmistress." She smiled in a way that was at once melancholy, pleased, and a myriad of emotions that Hermione couldn't identify.

"Congratulations." The word seemed almost grotesquely inappropriate. Conscious of how clumsy she must seem, Hermione clambered down from her perch.

"Mm." Minerva's lips twitched, showing that she had taken the sentiment in its intended vein. She gestured towards a plate that had previously been concealed behind her slender figure. "Now you need to eat." Hermione opened her mouth. "I insist."

"What about the library?" The protest sounded weak even to Hermione's own ears.

"You forget, I have been elevated to the post of headmistress- one assumes I'm capable of continue, although the same could not be said for every last one of my predecessors..." Hermione flushed, watching as Minerva climbed effortlessly onto the table. It was captivating, watching Minerva work, her features schooled into a look of total concentration, and her wand waving like a conductor's baton. _She was staring_. Embarrassed by this revelation, Hermione turned quickly and began nibbling the cold chicken and salad, her comfort food. She was touched that Minerva had remembered so much about her.

"Has everyone else eaten?" The silence had been weighty. Hermione was acutely aware of how her voice echoed around the library.

"Yes. Molly told me of your decision to remain here despite her invitation. Please don't feel obliged to stay on; you've already worked wonders in here." It was more than impressive that Minerva's flow didn't so much as falter when she spoke, demonstrating complete and precise control of her magic.

"I want to stay." Hermione blushed at the vehemence of her words, averting her gaze as Minerva ceased casting spells and turned to face her. Hermione was dimly aware of a stack of books landing softly by her side. Sighing, Minerva rubbed her eyes.

"Miss Granger, you are in no way bound to act as my carer." Eying the tiles on the floor, Hermione felt wild panic at being so misconstrued.

"I'm not! I am your friend, though, and I want to see Hogwarts rebuilt; it meant – means – so much to me, and I want everyone to have the chance to be as happy here as I was. If I do make sure that you're alright, well... that can be my reward." For a moment Hermione waited in silence, internally berating herself for being so foolish. Minerva's pensive frown cracked, becoming mild curiosity.

"Your dedication is... commendable. Would you prefer to return to Gryffindor tower, or are you content to remain in my rooms?" Minerva remained completely neutral as she continued repairing books, leaving Hermione to wonder which she would prefer.

"If it doesn't inconvenience you, then I'd rather stay." Pushing her hair from her face, Hermione returned to work without waiting for Minerva's reaction. It took her a moment to recognise that the soaring sensation she felt was happiness. Minerva made her feel positively giddy.

"Not at all, Hermione, in fact your company is enjoyable whilst being remarkably unobtrusive." They worked on in companionable silence, and Hermione devoted her energy to restoring every book to its former glory. She smiled wistfully as an old edition of 'Hogwarts; A History' glided up to join its sister versions.

"How did you find me?" Hermione watched with interest as Minerva welded the gilt on the spine of a novel back together and levitated it back to its original place.

"You were absent, as was Potter, and as I arrived – midway through the main course – Molly was interrogating her youngest on the matter. With some, ah, persuasion from Arthur and the younger Mrs Weasley, she accepted that Harry would come to no harm having some much deserved time to enjoy being a teenage boy. As for you, that was easy; where has Hermione Granger always gone in times of trouble?" Minerva joined Hermione at the reference section, covering her mouth delicately with one hand.

"You're tired." The realisation surprised Hermione so much that, to her instant regret, she remarked upon it.

"Age does that." The tartness of the response was entirely negated by the teasing moue of Minerva's mouth. Hermione forced her eyes elsewhere.

"Not just age, although you aren't really old at all. I'm tired too." It was true that Hermione was worn out, and despite their combined efforts, the library was still far from perfect.

"Then we'll continue tomorrow. If I mend one more lighting fixture, I may well become tempted to hang myself from it." It was unusual to hear Minerva make such a flippant joke. Hermione felt herself smile.

"I never thought there would come a time I didn't want to see another book. Now I understand why Ron finds them such a daunting prospect." Minerva laughed musically, and together they left the library.

"I shan't tell Irma you said that, or her gratitude to you will almost certainly vanish." Picturing the strict librarian, Hermione stifled her giggles out of habit.

"I still don't think she's forgiven me for Viktor Krum and his ghastly fan club, not that I appreciated them twittering in the corner any more than she did." It seemed like a lifetime ago, and in a way it was. "How did your day at the ministry go?"

"It was taxing. The current administration will prove easier to work with – Kingsley is a man of no small ability – still, bureaucracy is bureaucracy, and they're having difficulty scheduling a timetable for the trials and memorials. The funerals will begin in two days time." A void of panic swelled in Hermione, and she felt dreadful for forgetting the ceremonies that would take place. "You shouldn't worry- there is no need for you to attend the majority of them."

A sudden realisation dawned on Hermione.

"But you will." As headmistress of Hogwarts, a teacher and a friend of the deceased, and having played such a key role in the Order of the Phoenix, Minerva was to have no respite from death. Grimly, she looked at Hermione.

"I had forgotten exactly how perceptive you are, Hermione." Another unreadable look flickered behind Minerva's eyes.

"Minerva?" Uncertain of how best to vocalise her fierce urge to protect the older witch, Hermione paused.

"Yes?"

"I'll stay with you."

At first Hermione expected to be briskly rebuffed – she could see that the words were poised on the tip of Minerva's tongue – and then, for one brilliant and terrifying moment, acceptance reigned.

"It's too much to ask of anyone, _especially_ a friend who has already suffered so much." Straightening her robes, Minerva carried on walking.

"It's being asked of you." It was a bold manoeuvre, to test Minerva's patience by arguing the point, but Hermione found that she didn't much care. Once again Minerva halted, stiffening as the words reached her ears.

"I'm-"

"What; older, wiser, stronger than me?" Hearing a new steeliness to Hermione's voice, Minerva turned slowly. "Maybe you are- it doesn't matter. Everyone needs to have someone they can rely on, and since last year I've had you. Now I'm going to stay with you, like your letters all stayed with me."

Minerva nodded slowly, remaining silent. _Was she angry?_ They started walking again, soon arriving at Minerva's rooms.

"Sheherazad." The portrait swung open, and Hermione didn't wait for the response of its owner as she swept inside, heading for her bedroom_. Maybe it would have been better to go back to the tower._ Just as she began to push on the wooden door, a voice that had slipped into her dreams for the past year stopped her.

"Older? Undeniably. Wiser than you? Never. I'm stubborn and arrogant." Minerva raised a hand to stop Hermione from protesting. "I would appreciate your companionship, if you are still offering it." Reserved by nature, Minerva didn't say any more. She didn't have to.

"Always." Hermione smiled to let Minerva know that she was no longer angry. "Goodnight, Minerva."

"Goodnight."

It was difficult to keep her thoughts from Minerva, or rather the spectacular blaze of feelings the witch in question evoked, but somehow Hermione managed by redoubling her efforts in the restoration of the school. When Ron left the next day, she felt a guilty surge of relief, which was swallowed quickly by the anxiety caused by the impending funerals.

Undoubtedly it was going to be hard, but for Minerva, Hermione would gladly endure it.

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review. **


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm surprised by the popularity of this story. Every review is precious to me.**

**OoOoO**

After the battle of Hogwarts had reached its conclusion, people had started to return home. First, large families such as the Weasleys had left, and it was mostly the injured, in the care of Madam Pomfrey, who remained until relatives arrived to collect them. Minerva ended term prematurely, and the castle was soon empty save for the staff and a small group who had elected to remain behind for the duration of the repairs.

Hermione had grown comfortable in the company of her former teachers, but that morning there was palpable tension at the breakfast table. First was to be the funeral of Colin Creevey. The thought of the earnest little boy with an innocent smile and mousy hair made Hermione gag on her pumpkin juice. The noise, embarrassingly crude, echoed around the hall, and Hagrid patted her back so hard that Hermione struggled to remain upright. Ashen faced, Professor Sprout watched as though she were in a daze. Across the table, the red eyed Patil twins – who had been determined to remain, however strongly their parents objected – were comforting one another, and looked beyond making any kind of helpful gesture. On her other side sat Minerva, who gestured for Hagrid to cease 'helping' and pressed a glass of water into Hermione's hand.

After this disturbance, occupants of the hall made an unspoken unanimous decision to cease poking at their various meals and leave. Minerva stood, organising their departure, assigning those few who could not apparate to those most practiced in the art. They filed down the pathway that led to Hogsmeade, everyone clad in dark robes suitable for mourning.

The ceremony was conducted with dignity, and Hermione knew that although his own life had been short, Colin Creevey had touched the lives of a great many people. When the service concluded, Hermione remained seated, waiting for Minerva to deliver her condolences to the stricken parents. Dennis looked desolate.

"Hello Hermione." She turned to see Harry, who had spoken most touchingly about the record of their time at Hogwarts, including his arm being emptied of bones by Lockhart.

"Hi. What you said was... just right." Hermione knew that her approval of such matters would always be of importance to Harry, considering the dynamic of their friendship.

"Thanks. Mrs Weasley said so too." The mention of the Weasleys reminded her that tomorrow would be Fred's funeral. This was the event Hermione dreaded most. "Remus and Tonks are next." As he mentioned the last of his father's friends, Harry's voice went quiet. "Andromeda Tonks is going to look after Teddy, and I'll see him every weekend."

"He'll love having you with him, Harry." He smiled thinly at the praise.

"I really hope so."

"Remus Lupin chose wisely in making you godfather, Potter. I trust you won't forget your duty to that child." Minerva appeared at Hermione's side. Her dark robes made Hermione realise how pale she really was.

"Thanks, Professor." The words of their former Head of House seemed immediately to bolster Harry's confidence.

"You faced the greatest evil we've known in fifty years and you still won't call me by my first name. I'm delighted that my reputation hasn't been diminished by perspective, at any rate." Minerva gave her small, subtle smile – tired, but no less beautiful for it – and her eyes teased in a fashion that made Hermione think of Sphinxes. Hermione knew that she was attempting to lift Harry from despair, and had, at least, succeeded in intriguing him.

"So... I can call you Mi-Minerva?" In some ways, Harry would always be the humble young boy she had first met all those years ago, and Hermione loved him for it. She met Minerva's eyes.

"Unless you believe that I still have the power to put you in detention." This response was characteristic. Leaving Harry to consider her words, Minerva moved away to organise the departure.

"Hermione, was that a 'yes' or a 'no'? I'm not quite sure." Squeezing Harry's arm as she passed, Hermione followed Minerva.

The transition between the two cemeteries was quick, but the service was by no means painless to all those in attendance. As she recalled Remus, as clever as he was kind, and bold, light hearted Tonks, Hermione couldn't help but cry. She slipped her hand into Minerva's, and by the end of the sermon, Minerva had her fingers in a vice grip. Baby Teddy gurgled at the front, seemingly unaware of what he had lost. It broke Hermione's heart.

The rest of the day continued in a similar vein, and by the time she returned to Hogwarts, Hermione was more than ready to sleep.

When she rose the next day, Hermione deeply regretted allowing the last few hours before Fred's funeral to pass so quickly. At breakfast she felt too nauseous to eat, but Minerva slid a small pot of tea along the table in her direction. As she poured, Hermione's hands shook. _Poor Mrs Weasley_. Hermione drank from her steaming mug, wishing in vain that it would soothe the thick ache in her throat. _How would Ron and Ginny be coping with it all?_

Before she knew it, they were crossing the grounds again and heading back to Hogsmeade. Several sharp cracks told Hermione what her watering eyes could not; _almost everyone must have left_. She tried to apparate and, for the first time since her tuition, failed. A clear voice rang out.

"Hermione, stop or you'll splinch yourself, and as amusing as Mr Weasley would have found it, I'd rather you remain in one piece." Fred would indeed have found such a spectacle hilarious, and perhaps created some kind of temporary limb loss potion. _What was George going to do without him?_ Hermione's face crumpled. Wordlessly, Minerva comforted her and once she had wiped away the last of Hermione's tears, she transported them both to Ottery St Catchpole and retained her grip on her wrist as they walked to the graveyard. In short order, they were both ushered into the second row. George was staring ahead unblinkingly, mouth slack with disbelief. On either side of him sat Molly and Arthur, each looking agonised. Percy was speaking soothingly to his mother. Ginny sat between Bill and Charlie, and from his seat directly behind her, Harry was holding her hand through the gaps between the chairs.

An official moved to the front, and Minerva's hand slipped away. The loss of contact made Hermione feel cold all over. Had Minerva seen Harry and Ginny in a similar position? Casting a furtive glance at her, Hermione instantly dismissed the idea – _Minerva would never have made the connection_ – and listened to the service, which passed in a blur.

When it was her turn to approach and commiserate the Weasleys, Hermione's legs felt as insubstantial as twigs. Feeling faint, she continued towards her surrogate family, hugging each bereft Weasley. She and Harry ended up standing with Ron and Ginny as people came to speak their words of comfort. Mrs Weasley left to stand by her son's grave before the queue of well wishers had quite finished, and the crowd parted to let her pass. Fleur and George took her place at the front, standing as stiffly and awkwardly as statues.

"Thanks for being here." Ron spoke quietly, more subdued than Hermione had ever seen him.

"We wouldn't have been anywhere else." Hermione nodded, echoing Harry's words. They stood together until Fleur drifted over, her pretty face blotchy beneath her dark veil.

"'Arry, 'Hermione, thank you both so much for coming. Molly appreciates it, and she has asked me to tell you, 'Ermione, that you are welcome back at any time." Fleur locked arms with Bill and mingled with the witches and wizards paying their last respects to Fred.

"Where's George?" Hermione had been trying for some time to locate him, feeling that George shouldn't be alone. Ron frowned.

"Last I saw, he was over there with Ginny talking to Lee Jordan." Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets, realising that he had given away the fact he had been observing his girlfriend.

A loud bang erupted. Lights flashed in the sky. Expecting a volley of curses, Hermione ducked, taking refuge in a sea of legs. She felt sheer panic. Where was Minerva? And why wasn't anyone else scared? Feeling rather foolish, Hermione rose in time to see a magnificent firework spiral across the sky, its trail of red and gold sparks forming a quidditch team, _Gryffindor quidditch team_, who flew for several seconds before dissipating. The next firework went whizzing into the air, becoming a pink, crackling girl, who was quickly followed by two golden boys. They crept up behind her and exploded, causing her to jump in surprise before doing the same. Several people laughed at the representation of the Weasley twins.

The incredible display continued in this vein until every sphere of Fred's life had been as vividly represented. Thunderous applause echoed. Hermione scanned the crowd subconsciously, and saw that Minerva was sending her a questioning look, having seen her crouch to avoid a curse that never came. In response, Hermione managed a small smile.

"That was really good." As Harry spoke, she tore her eyes from Minerva with reluctance. "And could you tell... _her_ 'thank you'?" There was no question about the 'her' Harry meant.

"I'll tell Minerva." Hermione rolled her eyes at the way he avoided speaking the name. "Go and see Ginny."

Harry gave her a grateful look before working his way through the crowd. Ignoring the squirming sense of envy at the simplicity of his relationship, Hermione went to find the object of her own affections.

"What happens now?" She didn't dare voice her hopes of an immediate return to Hogwarts, aware of the damage it would do.

"Now? Now I am to attend the state burials of two aurors; Jack Merrythought and Isabella Rackham." The statement was deliberately ambiguous. Hermione recognised the invitation to attend and also the alternative of remaining at the Burrow.

"I see. Will you tell me a little about each of them before we go?" It seemed a strange thing to attend a funeral without knowing the person who had died. There was a pause in which Minerva's eyes widened, and her shoulders became a fraction less tense.

"That would be prudent, I think. Jack was in the first NEWT level class that I ever taught – Exceeds Expectations – although Charms was his forte. He was as gifted at duelling as he was at making friends. Isabella was a couple of years ahead of Nymphadora Tonks, and when she first arrived at Hogwarts she was as quiet as a mouse. In her fifth year she returned so bubbly and energetic that I barely recognised her. She was an Outstanding for my NEWT class." During this speech they had crossed a small field and journeyed towards a secluded park.

Minerva's eyes reflected a history that Hermione knew she couldn't understand, but was determined to value nevertheless, regardless of her role in Minerva's life.

**OoOoO**

It didn't take long for the relentless cycle of mourning to begin to affect the mood of the castle. In Hogsmeade there were still celebrations every night, but the village seemed worlds apart from the pockets of loss that dampened individual spirits at Hogwarts. Hermione soldiered on, not allowing herself to dwell on anything of consequence; she couldn't stand to think of her parents continuing their life without her, oblivious to her existence (she would leave them in the safety of Australia until the surviving Death Eaters had been tried and convicted); her ever present feelings for Minerva; the inevitable impending attempt by Ron to turn their friendship into something more; the gaps in her life where dear friends had once been.

Instead, Hermione finished returning books to their deserved state of glory, repairing ancient tomes and cataloguing them appropriately, a task that only she, Minerva and Professor Flitwick considered a priority and were content to carry out. The tiny wizard was healing slowly from the injuries he had sustained during the battle, and so he was, more often than not, absent. This left Hermione with far more time to dwell on the dark circles underneath Minerva's eyes, now dull.

Hermione dropped her book, struck by sudden inspiration. It landed heavily on the table, attracting Minerva's attention.

"I've had an idea." Hermione felt energised by the plan that was taking shape in her head, the way she had when plotting mischief with Harry and Ron in their earlier years.

"Please do share it. I'd be willing to do just about anything to have these books catalogue themselves. Exactly how does Irma stand it?" Minerva allowed her quill to levitate in midair, flexing her fingers to alleviate cramp.

"It isn't about cataloguing or anything of the sort. Meet me in the entrance hall in half an hour, okay?" Gently, Hermione prised a copy of 'Crafts of Olde' away from Minerva, moving to stand between the headmistress and her table of books.

"Then what is it?" Confused, Minerva rubbed her temples, clearly tired.

"Do you trust me?" Hermione hoped that the answer would be affirmative and that she would not have to suffer the pain that would be caused by any other answer. The reply came almost immediately.

"Yes. Yes I do." Minerva's expression softened.

"Then I'll see you there." Buoyed by Minerva's faith, Hermione raced irreverently from the library, her heart lighter than it had been for a long time.

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the length between updates. If all you lurking readers who have subscribed/favourite without leaving me a review amend your ways, I'll promise to add chapters at a more regular pace... ;) No pressure.**

**OoOoO**

Hermione sped down the stairway, recalling the countless number of times she had navigated the halls of Hogwarts at a similar pace during her days as a student, especially during the course of her third year. It didn't feel quite right to be racing around inside a place of learning, or to be in a corridor empty of other students, but Hermione pushed her uncertainties aside. She had a plan in action and was most definitely not going to let her nerves get in the way. Nodding at the morose figure of the Grey Lady, Hermione continued down into the entrance hall.

Unconsciously she slowed her pace as she caught sight of Minerva. Hermione was relieved to see that the older witch had indeed accepted her invitation and ceased working – she hadn't allowed herself to acknowledge the possibility that Minerva simply wouldn't show up. But Minerva was standing, waiting for her. _Beautiful_. The word slipped, unbidden, into Hermione's mind as she descended the last of the stairs. Clad in simple dark robes, Minerva cut a striking figure, not that Hermione believed she could explain the logic of such a thought without being met with scorn.

"I- I'm glad that you're here." Hermione focussed on not blushing as Minerva raised an eyebrow. Her less-than-articulate moments were like directional arrows pointing Minerva, and anyone else that cared to look, towards her true feelings.

"You were cryptic enough that I could hardly have refused." Minerva smiled tiredly. "So what is it that you wish to show me?"

"I think that you need to find out for yourself." Hermione walked onwards, pausing to look back at Minerva as she opened the door. "Aren't you coming?"

As Hermione stepped into the sunlight, she forced herself not to look back. Once she heard the sharp click of Minerva's heels against the cobblestones, Hermione allowed herself to increase her pace – as the shorter of the two, it was unlikely that she would manage to leave Minerva behind. Sure enough, the Headmistress of Hogwarts drew alongside her .

"Hermione..." Minerva stopped, placing a hand on her elbow. She smiled apologetically. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I can't leave Hogwarts. Not now."

"I know that," Hermione rolled her eyes good naturedly, "Which is why we aren't going to leave the grounds. Otherwise you'd sit and worry."

"So we'll be sitting, then?"

Hermione didn't answer, speeding up as they approached the lake. She removed the contents of her pocket and set them out on the grass, waving her wand in order to restore them to full size. Careful not to observe Minerva's reaction too closely, she spread out the picnic blanket, basket, and books. She sat down and set about unpacking the food, trying to remain as nonchalant as though she took Minerva for a picnic on a daily basis.

"Yes, we'll be sitting." Hermione patted the blanket beside her. "From here you can still see the school, but you can still relax."

Minerva joined her, and together they ate lunch. Between bites, they discussed the latest research in Transfigurations, and other academic subjects that bore no relevance to the war. At first Minerva had glanced up at the castle every few minutes, but Hermione succeeded in distracting her, and soon enough she was fully engaged in conversation.

"You brought ginger newts." Minerva smiled as she lifted a biscuit from the hamper. As she bit into it, Hermione tried not to be stare. "They're my favourite."

"Yes, I know." Hermione looked away and picked at a loose thread in the blanket. She didn't want to consider how she squirreled away every bit of information she had discovered about Minerva for future reference.

"Well, I'm very grateful to you for having remembered, and for this entire... expedition too. You've thought of everything. I see that you even brought books. Am I really such dull company?" Her expression was unreadable.

"I... I thought it would be nice to read." Hermione was shocked. She had been pleased with her idea and had assumed that Minerva would be too.

"Hermione, I'm teasing you." Minerva rolled her eyes. It was clear from the set of her mouth that she was trying not to laugh.

"Oh." Hermione smiled weakly.

"Do try not to become as gullible as Potter." Minerva reached for the novel she had been reading before the battle. If she was surprised that Hermione had selected if for her, she didn't let it show.

"I'm not sure that he's going to risk calling you Minerva for a very long time." Following Minerva's lead, Hermione lifted her own book and turned through the pages until she reached her bookmark.

**OoOoO**

After their relaxing afternoon, Minerva had spent all evening in her office responding to letters and assisting the Ministry with various problems. She had even insisted upon having dinner at her desk, and Hermione had known better than to argue, instead going downstairs for the evening meal by herself. It felt strange sitting around the table without Minerva, but nobody was greatly surprised by her absence.

"Did you have a pleasant time by the lake, Miss Granger?" Professor Sprout passed a cheesecake along the table to Padma Patil. It took a moment for Hermione to realise that there had been no accusation in her voice.

"Yes, I feel much better for it, thank you." Hermione accepted the bowl of mixed fruit from Professor Slughorn and put a spoonful into her bowl, dropping another into the bowl that she intended to take to Minerva.

"How did you convince Minerva to join you?" Professor Flitwick was looking at her with something akin to awe. Hermione flushed.

"I surprised her, I suppose." Hermione shrugged neatly and began eating her dessert, unaware of the look that Professor Flitwick shared with Professor Sprout.

"I see... Well, I'm glad that Minerva's finally willing to listen to someone else, at any rate."

Hermione had opened her mouth to respond when a cluster of owls flew through the windows, the evening post attached to their legs. Errol, the Weasley family owl, landed before Hermione, sending her goblet skittering along the table. Thankfully, it was empty. Stroking the bird absent-mindedly, Hermione detached the letter and began to read.

'_Hermione,_

_We're having some people around for dinner tomorrow night, and I was wondering if you'd like to come. Harry misses you, when he's not busy molesting my little sister, and I do too. It feels like we haven't all met up together for ages. You're still welcome to stay at the Burrow._

_-Ron'_

Reading between the lines, Hermione realised that the Weasleys had probably invited their children and their spouses. She sighed, rolling up the parchment and tucking it into her pocket. Hermione did miss them all. But Ron was putting her in an awkward position. She didn't want it to be assumed by him or his family that she was attending as anything more than a friend.

"Excuse me. I'm going to take some dessert up to Minerva." Hermione struggled to maintain a neutral expression as she carried the bowl from the room. She stalked through the castle, her mood foul. It was as though she could feel the heat of the seemingly innocent message through the material of her robes.

As she approached the door to Minerva's office, Hermione remembered why it was that she hadn't eaten in the hall: work. Minerva had enough burdens without listening to such insignificant matters. Hermione took a deep breath before she knocked on the door.

"Come in." She did as Minerva instructed and sat down on the proffered chair. "Give me a moment, Hermione. I'm writing to the Board of Governors."

She watched as Minerva continued working on her letter, a slight frown denoting concentration. Her eyes showed tiredness, yet there was also satisfaction, suggesting that things had gone in Minerva's favour. The office was quiet save for the scratch of Minerva's quill. Finally, Minerva rolled up the scroll of parchment and placed her quill in the inkwell.

"Truthfully, I think that I'm being a little overbearing, but I want the Board to know that decisions regarding the school will be mine." Minerva's eyes sparkled with mischief, widening slightly as she spotted the fruit. "For me?"

"Yes." Hermione slid the bowl across the table. There was a moment in which she was certain Minerva was going to say something, but it seemed as though she had thought better of it when she reached for the spoon.

"So tell me, how was your evening?"

"It was alright. I offered to help Professor Sinistra with repairing her equipment, but she was adamant that she would do it herself, so I worked on some statues with Padma – Parvati's helping with the divination classroom."

Minerva coughed delicately. _Most likely a rogue strawberry had choked her..._

"I got a letter from Ron a while ago." Hermione was careful to keep her voice light. Fastidious as always, Minerva conjured a napkin and dabbed at her mouth.

"Oh?"

"Yes, he invited me to dinner tomorrow at the Burrow." Hermione looked away, conscious of Minerva's stare.

"Forgive me for the observation, Hermione, but you hardly seem delighted about it." Minerva stood, tucking her wand into her pocket. "Let's go to my rooms and we can talk about this in greater comfort."

Hermione followed, doubtful that Minerva would simply allow the subject to drop. Sure enough, as soon as they were seated, Minerva looked at her in a way that warned against the folly of changing the subject.

"It'd be nice to see the Weasleys again, and Harry too." Hermione kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet underneath her body.

"You're aware, no doubt, that Ronald Weasley has feelings for you." Minerva waited for Hermione to speak, making no comment to insinuate that she thought that what Ron felt was in any way mutual. It was comforting for Hermione to know that not everyone assumed she would end it with Ron.

"Yes. He tried to kiss me during the battle, but I- I don't see him in that way. He'll always be one of my best friends – nothing more, though." For a moment, Hermione was tempted to tell Minerva that she was in love with her, not Ron, and certainly not anybody else. Thankfully, Minerva had the tact not to pry, and was instead staring into the fireplace. "He seems to think that if we go out a few times then I'll suddenly realise that I've loved him all along."

"Ah... I understand your reluctance now." She nodded sagely.

"I really do miss Harry and Ginny, though, and everyone else. Even Ron." Although she didn't have romantic feelings for him, Hermione was still loathe to lose his friendship, and if the situation wasn't handled delicately, she almost certainly would.

"Well, Molly's been pestering me to come to dinner every night for a week now. I'll send her an owl to say that tomorrow would be convenient, although I'd imagine that she's almost given up hope by now." With a distinctly feline grace, Minerva stretched and got to her feet, heading for the desk that was situated in the corner, before her bookshelves. For a moment, Hermione was speechless.

"You'll come with me?" It came out as little more than a squeak.

"Yes, Hermione, and should you, by and twist of... _fate_, be left alone with Ronald Weasley, then I will see to it that you have a reason to join others." As she spoke, Minerva began writing a letter.

"What do you mean, 'a twist of fate'?" Instead of giving Hermione the answer she expected, Minerva paused and looked up at Hermione from over her glasses. "Oh... Yes, of course – Mrs Weasley will be encouraging him."

Minerva smiled grimly.

"She means well, I'm sure, but once an idea that could benefit her family has occurred to Molly, she isn't inclined to let it go."

Sighing deeply, Hermione slumped against the sofa. Just thinking about the dinner party made her tired.

**OoOoO**

The next day passed too quickly for Hermione's liking, and before she knew it she was in Minerva's rooms getting ready for their night out. In order to avoid creating the wrong impression, she dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a blouse. When she had finished getting ready, Hermione met Minerva in the living room. Her robes were a warm shade of burgundy, and Hermione noted that it was a pleasant change from the sober colours that had recently dominated Minerva's apparel.

"You look lovely." The compliment was out before Hermione could stop herself. There was something especially eye-catching about Minerva, who raised an eyebrow in response to the evaluation.

"Thank you. If your aim is to look merely adequate, Hermione, you're failing miserably – I like it." Gesturing towards the fireplace, Minerva turned away from her smartly. There were times when Hermione wondered if such familiarity made her feel awkward. "There's some floo powder inside that box."

Carefully, Hermione lifted the lid of what she was fairly certain was a valuable antique and scooped out a handful of floo powder. She clenched her hand tightly, partly out of nerves and partly because she didn't want to drop any onto Minerva's carpet. Before she dropped it into the flames, Hermione chanced a quick look over her shoulder. Minerva was rifling through a stack of papers on her desk and did not catch her glance. Hermione didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. _Both_. Releasing the powder, Hermione stepped into the flames.

"The Burrow!" Everything began to spin, and as she lost sight of Minerva, Hermione grew increasingly nervous. She felt nauseous. Her head span. She was going to see the Weasleys, and there was nothing she could do about it, short of leaving through the wrong grating. Hermione landed in the now familiar living room of the Burrow before she had time to consider how best to escape her predicament.

"Hermione, dear." Molly smiled, crossing the room to embrace her. There was something comforting about it. At least, there was until Mrs Weasley spoke again. "Ron, Ginny, Hermione's here – come and say hello!"

Stepping back from Mrs Weasley, Hermione listened to the thundering footsteps as her friends ran down the stairs to greet her. The door swung open to reveal Ron, his hands in his pockets and his smile slightly shy.

"Hello Hermione." He stared at her, an almost dreamy look in his eyes. _She tried not to cringe. Where was Minerva?_

"Hi Ron, how are you?" Conscious of Mrs Weasley's eyes boring a hole into the back of her head, Hermione was determined not to do anything that could be misconstrued.

"Get out of the way." Ginny's voice came from behind Ron, and as he stumbled into the sitting room it became clear that she had grown impatient waiting for him to move and had pushed him. Harry stood beside her, grinning at his girlfriend's antics. Ginny crossed the room without ceremony and hugged Hermione in much the same fashion as her mother had done. "It's great to see you again."

"Thanks. I'm glad to see you guys too. Harry, you're looking well." Time away from the world had certainly agreed with him, because Harry looked both well-fed and relaxed, more so than she could remember seeing him for a long time.

He was just about to reply when Mrs Weasley spoke again.

"Ginny, dear, could you help me in the kitchen please? And Harry, if you could set the table..." Mrs Weasley's voice trailed off as she disappeared into the kitchen. Ginny followed her mother, rolling her eyes at Hermione. Ever eager to help out his surrogate family, Harry moved into the dining room without complaining.

"You look really nice, Hermione." Ron's face turned scarlet.

"Thanks... Are you enjoying being back home?" He moved closer, and Hermione got the distinct impression that he was going to attempt to invade her personal space. She dodged, pretending that the pictures on the mantel had caught her attention. Bill and Fleur holding hands. Ginny as a young child, standing proudly beside a strawberry patch. Fred and George one Christmas. The entire family before the pyramids.

"Yeah. I'll never say a bad word about mum's cooking again."

Hermione was saved from having to make a reply by the roar of the fireplace. Minerva stepped out onto the hearth, brushing flecks of soot from her robes.

"Mr Weasley, good evening." Minerva gave a charming smile, ignoring Ron's ill-concealed frustration.

"Hi Professor. I'll show you though to the dining room – I think everyone else is in there."

Hermione ignored the glance from Ron that pleaded with her to remain where she was and followed him, Minerva by her side.

"What kept you?" Hermione couldn't help but let her curiosity show.

"I thought that I'd lost something." She didn't appear overly concerned, and so Hermione assumed that the object in question had been located. There was no time to ask Minerva more, as Ron held open the door for them.

Sure enough, the majority of people seated around the table were the Weasleys and their various spouses. Bill and Fleur were deep in conversation, and having finished setting the table, Harry and Ginny were playing with Teddy whilst Andromeda looked on, her expression slightly wistful. Arthur was trying to engage George in conversation, and Percy was introducing a witch Hermione didn't recognise to his Great Aunt Muriel.

Few seats remained; the chair at the end of the table was clearly Molly's, and Ron was moving to sit beside Ginny. Gritting her teeth, Hermione sat in between him and Andromeda. Minerva sat between Fleur and Charlie.

"Hello Mrs Tonks." She blinked in surprise and turned to face Hermione, the gesture reminiscent of her late daughter.

"Hermione Granger, isn't it? I'm glad that we're meeting under more pleasant circumstances, at any rate." Her eyes strayed back across the table to Teddy. "He's a good boy."

Hermione wasn't certain how best to respond.

"Oh... yes, and he's adorable." Teddy grabbed onto a strand of Ginny's hair, laughing wildly. His own fluffy hair turned a similar shade of red.

"Teddy? Oh, he's a little terror, but I wouldn't have it any other way. No, I meant Harry – he comes around all the time to play with him. I'm going to be glad of it when he learns to walk." Andromeda chatted about her grandson until the starter course was served.

When Molly brought through the plates she gave a satisfied smile upon seeing Ron and Hermione sitting together. It made Hermione want to scream. Instead, she avoided Ron's attempts to hold her hand underneath the table. Other than the ripple of sadness caused by George leaving halfway through the meal, and the problem of Ron's feelings, Hermione enjoyed herself immensely.

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, **_**especially**_** those who have just started. You have no idea how happy your words made me. This chapter is dedicated to everyone who is looking forward to university.**

**OoOoO**

Hermione stood by Hagrid's hut, idly stroking Fang's head. Although he hadn't complained about it, his hut had been all but demolished, and so she had decided to direct her energies towards its restoration before Hagrid did so himself. She had invited Harry, Ron and Ginny to Hogwarts because of a nostalgic impulse, and between them they had repaired their friend's home in the space of a morning. They had hastily made their excuses as Hagrid offered to provide lunch, and so it was that they came to eat lunch in the Great Hall.

Pre-empting Ron's desire to sit beside her again, Hermione took her usual place beside Minerva. Smiling innocently, Ginny squeezed onto the bench beside Hermione, presumably oblivious to the dark look that her brother was casting her from across the table.

"How was your morning?" Minerva continued to pile together a rather remarkable salad as she spoke.

"It was indecently fun, considering that Hagrid was little more than homeless. He said that we could stay to eat, but we thought that it would be best to let him settle in by himself." Hermione caught Harry's eye, causing him to sputter on his soup.

"How generous of you to pass over such a tempting offer." There was nothing in Minerva's manner to suggest that she wasn't utterly serious. Ginny giggled, but Ron stared at her as though she had gone mad.

"It wasn't easy... Minerva." Harry stared determinedly at his sandwich as he spoke.

"No, I can't imagine that it was." Professor Flitwick winked at Harry.

"The weather is glorious today." There was a slightly wistful note in Minerva's voice. "You ought to make the most of it."

Minerva spoke so casually that for a moment, Hermione didn't understand what it was that she was hinting at. But she knew Minerva well enough to understand the mixture of generosity and pride that would keep her from wanting to be a burden. Hermione felt guilty for having failed to convince Minerva that she was to be depended upon. Before she could think of a subtle way to confirm that she would come to the Ministry's memorial service, Ron spoke.

"Harry and Ginny are going to Madam Puddifoot's while we're here." An awkward silence descended, smothering the other conversations. Ginny and Harry looked at one another in a way that suggested they had planned on doing no such thing. "Why don't we-"

"I'm sure that you'll have a lovely time there..." Hermione gave a tight smile. "I'm sorry I can't join you, but I've already got plans for this afternoon."

"Yes, Miss Granger has been most helpful with the restoration of the castle." Professor Flitwick went on to describe in great detail all that still had to be done without once saying that she would be working on shortening the alarmingly large list in the afternoon. Hermione felt a great deal of affection for the tiny wizard, and when nobody was looking she mouthed a quick 'thank you' along the table.

Before long, it was time for her friends to go. Hermione hugged them each in turn, taking care to let go of Ron quickly. They stood in the entrance hall together, each reflecting on different memories of their school days.

"Have fun at the cafe." Hermione suppressed a giggle at the look of barely concealed horror on Harry's face.

"Those two will, but I'll be a bit of a third wheel." Ron looked at her expectantly. There was an uncomfortable pause.

"Oh come on, you're happy wherever there's food." Ginny linked arms with the two boys. Neither of them looked particularly happy about their scheduled afternoon activity. "Bye, Hermione."

"See you soon." Hermione waved, watching them leave. She doubted it was possible that the dynamic of their group would remain unscathed once Ron had accepted being rejected.

"You could quite easily catch up with them." Minerva came to stand beside her, speaking calmly.

"No. I'm coming with you." Hermione folded her arms. "There's nothing that could change my mind, not even a half price sale at _Flourish and Blott's_."

The corners of Minerva's mouth twitched. Her posture relaxed slightly, and Hermione realised that she was going to present no further resistance. _Maybe she was making progress after all_.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it." She followed Minerva up the staircase, slightly nervous about the impending memorial ceremony. When they reached Minerva's rooms, Hermione made a beeline for her wardrobe.

She sifted through the several sets of black robes that she had accumulated since funerals had become a common occurance and selected the thinnest that she could find. The weather was warm, almost too warm, and it would be stifling in the hall with hundreds of other witches and wizards.

When Hermione had prepared herself for the ceremony, she left her room and waited in the living area for Minerva to appear. For ten minutes she paced, looked out of the window and checked her hair in the mirror. They were going to be late if they didn't leave quickly. Hermione knocked tentatively on Minerva's door. One didn't simply shout 'hurry up' to Minerva McGonagall. When it swung open to reveal the headmistress, Hermione realised that she had been crying. _No wonder_.

"Are you okay?" Hermione reached out and attempted to take Minerva's hand. She was alarmed when Minerva moved out of her reach, expression closed.

"I'm fine." There was a definite finality to the words that would have deterred most people. However, Hermione was in a small minority that did not fear Minerva McGonagall.

"Are you sure? You look..." Minerva raised an eyebrow. "You look tired."

"I am certain, and whether or not you believe me, Miss Granger, is irrelevant." Minerva walked smartly from the room, leaving Hermione to gape at the place she had stood.

A full minute had passed before she could move. Hermione could barely swallow because of the feeling that there was a dragon's egg lodged in her throat. It seemed impossible that Minerva could ever care for her. The thought was painful, and touching it was like poking a cut; terrible. Hermione struggled to keep her breathing under control as she too exited the room. Her legs were not as long as Minerva's, and she didn't catch up until halfway across the law. Initially, she suspected that Minerva wouldn't acknowledge her presence. She was wrong.

"There is... no need for you to accompany me." She spoke tersely, but already the facade of formality was slipping away. Minerva looked to be very close to tears once more, and her vulnerability softened Hermione. She didn't feel inclined to forgive Minerva, but neither could she leave her to suffer alone. Nothing could make her wish to abandon Minerva.

"Yes there is, now come on. We have to go." Hermione apparated.

**OoOoO**

It had been exhausting, more tiring than two and a half hours spent sitting on a chair should ever be. Hermione had began to cry silently when Tonks was mentioned and hadn't been able to stop. Minerva had sat as still as a statue. It was this ability to present a stoic front that caused others to presume that she was cold, but Hermione recognised it as a defence mechanism. They had returned to the castle without a word passing between them. Hermione had gone straight to her bedroom and sat with a book on her lap. She didn't read a word of it, simply absorbing the silence around her until she fell asleep.

When Hermione next opened her eyes, it was completely dark save for the moonlight. She sat up slowly. What she really wanted was a glass of water, yet if she left her room she would risk coming face to face with Minerva and the hollow reality of her foolish dreams. And Hermione couldn't deal with any more sadness. She changed into her pyjamas and was about to climb back into her bed when she considered how selfish it was. Minerva still relied upon her friendship. With a sigh, Hermione pushed open her door and carefully made her way to the kitchen area. She filled a glass with water, enjoying the simplicity of the action, and finished it quickly.

Stepping around the dark shapes of Minerva's furniture, Hermione walked back towards her room. She paused outside the door, certain that she had heard a noise. After a moment, she heard it again. She padded softly around the room and closer to the source of the noise, halting outside of Minerva's room. In a moment of clarity, Hermione realised what it was that she could hear. Minerva was crying.

It seemed doubtful that the response would be favourable, but Hermione knew that she couldn't call herself a true friend if she walked away. She opened the door and looked around the room. There was a large canopy bed, from which she averted her gaze as soon as she had ascertained that it was empty, a wardrobe, a dressing table and a bookshelf. It took a moment for her to locate Minerva, curled up on the window seat. She was still dressed in her black robes, although there was enough light for Hermione to see that they were now crushed. Her shoulders were shaking, which was all the prompting Hermione needed.

She crossed the room and eased herself onto the cushioned chair, wrapping both arms around Minerva, who was alarmingly slight. Gently, she smoothed the hair back from Minerva's face, ignoring the headmistress' attempts to shy away from her touch. Perhaps she was feeling the strain of the day behind her, because Minerva allowed herself to rest limply against Hermione's shoulder. After a while, she even stopped crying.

"I'm sorry-" It was barely more than a whisper.

"Don't be." Hermione felt as though her voice was too loud. She lowered her voice to match Minerva's hushed tones. "It's been a rough day, and you're more than entitled to be upset."

"No." Minerva shifted slightly. Her hair was deliciously soft against Hermione's bare shoulder. "I'm sorry about how I spoke to you earlier – it was inexcusable."

"Not in my opinion." She ran a segment of Minerva's hair between her fingers.

"I wish..." Minerva closed her eyes, frowning. "I wish that I could give you the explanation that you deserve."

"Me too. It isn't the end of the world if you can't, though." Hermione leant back against the wall, enjoying the breeze that drifted in through the window, and committed the feeling of having Minerva in her arms to memory. It was glorious.

"How is it that you can always be so understanding?" There was a guarded edge to her voice that was at once exasperating and endearing.

_Because that's love, Minerva._

"Because you deserve it." Hermione smiled affectionately, trying not to think about how she would feel without Minerva leaning against her.

"I'm not entirely sure about that." Stretching in a way that was inherently feline, Minerva extracted herself from Hermione's grasp. She tried and failed to smile. Unable to resist the temptation, Hermione leant forward and kissed her cheek.

Only, Minerva had other ideas. She met Hermione's lips with her own, again and again. It was delicious. Hermione allowed herself to enjoy several kisses, each more heated than the last, before her conscience kicked in. She turned her head away, but Minerva only began to kiss her neck frantically.

"Minerva..." She sighed, firmly grasping the fingers that were desperately attempting to unbutton her pyjama top. "You have to stop, now. This isn't what you want."

"Isn't it?" Minerva closed her eyes and leant in for another kiss.

"No, no it isn't. You're still not finished mourning your losses, and you want to feel close to someone." Taking a deep breath, Hermione forced herself to continue destroying her own dreams. "I can't take advantage of you."

Embarrassment and shock clouded Minerva's features. She covered her mouth with a trembling hand.

"No... It's me that's taking advantage of this situation." Minerva stood, backing away from the comforting hand that Hermione had extended. She all but ran into her bedroom. "I'm sorry."

"Me too." Hermione rested her head against the window pane and addressed the thin air. "Me too."

**OoOoO**

After what had transpired the night before, Hermione had slept very little. She was worried about what damage had been done to her friendship with Minerva, and dismal because of the changes that would surely come. It had taken a lot of nerve to steel herself in order to face whatever waited for her outside the door, but when Hermione finally ventured out, there was no trace of the rage or depression that she had expected to be greeted with.

"Good morning." Minerva stood before the fireplace, adjusting her cloak with one hand and clutching some floo powder with the other. She didn't look at Hermione.

"Morning. Listen, I'm sorry about last-" She stopped speaking as the Headmistress stepped into the fireplace and disappeared. When she didn't return after several minutes, Hermione decided to go and eat breakfast.

She allowed the Patil twins to draw her into conversation as she nibbled on a slice of toast, feeling more alone than she had done since before the battle. Neither Padma nor Parvati looked especially sorry when Hermione stood to leave – she couldn't show her sadness in front of them. However, Professor Flitwick had other ideas and followed her from the hall.

"And how are you today, Miss Granger?" The question was amicable enough, but Hermione sensed an underlying curiosity.

"Fine thank you, sir." She forced herself to smile down at him. "By any chance, do you know when Minerva will be back? Only there's something that I have to discuss with her."

"I'm sorry, but I have no idea. You, Miss Granger, are the expert on Minerva. Once you've gone to the Burrow I'll have a much harder time trying to convince her to look after herself, but then it was only to be expected..." Professor Flitwick carried on speaking cheerfully. Hermione frowned, stuck on one phrase.

"I'm not going to the Burrow, sir." She stopped in the entrance hall. None of the warmth coming in through the open doors could stop Hermione from shivering.

"Come now, Miss Granger, you can't be expected to change all of your plans to suit Minerva. I spoke to her this morning and she made it clear that you were going to be leaving us in order to spend more time with your friends."

"There's been a misunderstanding..."

As the tiny charms professor looked up at her, Hermione was struck by the sudden temptation to confess everything from the way she had carried Minerva's letters until they were soft and worn to how delicious their forbidden kisses had been and how hard it was to refuse Minerva.

All of a sudden, Hermione became aware of how tired she was. She had devoted herself to looking after Minerva as well as she could, and in the end she was only going to be pushed away. _Rejected_.

If Minerva wanted rid of her, then she was resolved to go.

"Actually, yes- what am I saying? I'm supposed to go and meet my friends this afternoon. I'll see you later, sir." Hermione turned on her heel and raced to Minerva's rooms.

She waved her wand, and all of her belongings that had, somehow, found places in amongst Minerva's, soared into her trunk. The headmistress' quarters didn't look any emptier for their absence in Hermione's eyes.

After everything had been put together, Hermione dragged her trunk over to the fireplace. Reluctantly, she approached Minerva's desk and lifted the quill. As she considered what to write, ink dropped onto the parchment.

_Goodbye._

It had become abundantly clear to Hermione that the task of understanding Minerva's various complexities was too much for her. She stepped into the fire, clutching the handle of her trunk tightly. Her vision blurred as Minerva's rooms receded into the darkness.

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review.**


	6. Chapter 6

**This chapter is dedicated to **_**Auraya Kairi Black**_**. **

**OoOoO**

Hermione was sat in Mr Weasley's shed, a book on her lap. It was wonderful to be surrounded by the people that had become a family to her, but she was beginning to tire of Ron's increasingly obvious attempts to corner her and Mrs Weasley's relentless interference. Harry and Ginny encouraged her to spend time with them, but Hermione felt guilty for encroaching upon their time together. Fleur, about whom Hermione thought more kindly than she had ever done before, had spotted what was happening and, had spoken to Mrs Weasley as soon as she had realised what was happening, only to be left on the receiving end of Molly's ire. Since that incident nobody had risked the wrath of Molly, and Hermione couldn't blame them. After all of the fighting that had taken place, it was important to preserve the sense of unity between them all.

However, Arthur had taken to asking Hermione into his shed after dinner in order to ask about various muggle appliances. It was true that he did ask her opinion regularly on an assortment of recent additions to his collection, but for the most part he allowed Hermione to read. He smiled sympathetically at Hermione as he began tinkering with a CD player. Due to the way her thoughts gravitated towards another difficult relationship, Hermione read considerably less than Mr Weasley thought. Her guilt over leaving Minerva had not faded. After seeing her at Rodolphus Lestrange's trial the previous week, it had intensified.

Minerva had looked pale, thin and drawn. She had given evidence, spoken eloquently when it was required of her, and swept from the court room as soon as the trial had finished, leaving Hermione no opportunity to approach her. Since that moment, Hermione had attempted to convince herself that Minerva was more than capable of eating and sleeping whenever necessary, and that she had done nothing wrong.

A knock on the door jolted Hermione from her thoughts.

"I'll get it, Mr Weasley." She dropped her book into a cardboard box full of springs in case Mrs Weasley was paying her husband a visit and answered the door. "Hi Harry."

"Hello. Can you help me get rid of some gnomes?" He handed her a thick pair of gloves.

"Of course."

Together they made their way deeper into the garden and began the process of ejecting gnomes. For a while they worked in companionable silence.

"Hermione, you're my best friend. I can tell when you're sad, even if Ginny did need to point it out to me at first." He smiled sheepishly. Hermione tensed.

"What makes you think I'm unhappy?"

"Well if you ask me, what's going on with Ron's a bit of a downer, but that's not it. Did you have a fight with Prof- with Minerva?" He spoke with an affected casualness that made Hermione feel especially fond of him.

"No, Harry. No I didn't. What makes you think it's her?" She looked determinedly at the bunches of wildflowers growing between the grass.

He snorted. Despite herself, Hermione smiled.

"I don't know. Maybe it's the way you go all quiet and listen whenever someone mentions having seen herm, or maybe it's the way you looked at her letters whenever you thought I couldn't see you... I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's okay by me if you like her."

"I was going to have to change my preferences if it wasn't." Hermione ducked, laughing, as Harry threw a gnome in her direction.

"You know what I mean!" He dodged as Hermione retaliated. She was laughing too much to have a passable aim.

"Yes I do. Thanks, Harry. It means a lot."

"Don't mention it." There was a lull in the conversation, and Hermione knew that Harry was working up the nerve to ask another question.

"Since our sixth year. And no, she doesn't know. She _can't _know-" Hermione was grateful when Harry wrapped her in a tight hug. He patted her back awkwardly as she cried into his t-shirt.

"I bet she misses you too." A breeze caused the leaves to rustle together.

Hermione stiffened.

"There's no way for me to know that." It was much easier to say than admitting Minerva had thrown her out as though none of what they had shared was of any importance.

"If you say so..." Harry sounded unconvinced. He stared tactfully into the distance as Hermione wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

**OoOoO**

With support from Harry and Ginny, Hermione was pleased to know that regardless of what happened, she would always have at least two of her closest friends by her side, although it seemed unlikely that anything of _that_ nature ever would happen. One morning at breakfast, Mrs Weasley was trying to convince Hermione to go help Ron tidy out the attic. Before Ginny could open her mouth to insist that she helped out too, a legitimate excuse flew through the window and landed between the breakfast dishes. It was a majestic looking tawny owl that Hermione recognised but could not place, and it was sticking out a leg in her direction. Hermione untied the note and read it.

'_Miss Granger,_

_Your presence is sorely missed here at Hogwarts, and not only because of your efforts in the restoration of the castle. At your earliest convenience, I wish to discuss your work in the library with you, which is why I am inviting you to spend the day in the castle._

_I am sorry for the short notice, but due to your __unparalleled commitment__ this establishment, I can only presume that you will not object to your day being interrupted._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Filius Flitwick'_

Reading between the lines, Hermione surmised that something was indeed amiss if she was being called to the castle, and that the pretence was to avoid drawing the attention of Mrs Weasley, who was frowning in the corner, arms folded.

"It sounds serious, Hermione, you'd better go right away." Arthur lifted his fork and chewed on a piece of bacon, ignoring his wife's pointed stare.

"You're right Mr Weasley; I shouldn't delay." Downing the rest of her tea, Hermione stood. She was filled with a mixture of hope and terror at the prospect of seeing Minerva again. She waved goodbye to the group assembled around the table and exited the Burrow.

As Hermione walked towards Hogwarts, she recalled the manner in which she had left the school the last time she had been there. She tried to keep her breathing even and concentrate on the meeting with Professor Flitwick; trying to speculate about Minerva was too difficult. The castle was almost restored to its former glory, although there was no way for the memories of the battle to be erased. Increasing her pace, Hermione continued towards the castle. Hermione Granger did not run in corridors – after a lifetime as a studious bookworm, she couldn't bring herself to break the rule – but she made sure that she did not linger as she went to Professor Flitwick's office. Minerva could be anywhere. She knocked on the door and waited, hoping that he would let her in quickly.

"Ah Miss Granger, good morning!" He beamed up at her. "I knew that I could rely on you not to dally – one of the reasons I always thought that you would have done well in my house."

"Thank you, sir, but I think that I'll always be a Gryffindor at heart." Taking the proffered seat, Hermione waited to find out what the underlying matter was.

"Yes, perhaps you're right..." He lifted a porcelain teapot and poured the scalding liquid into a mug for Hermione. "Now tell me, how are you enjoying your stay with the Weasleys?"

"Very much, thank you. It's great fun." She lifted the mug and blew gently on the surface of the tea. It seemed that Professor Flitwick noticed the forced cheerfulness in her voice, although he did not comment.

"I'm glad to hear it. Certainly, you deserve to relax." The conversation continued in a friendly vein until Hermione could no longer repress her curiosity.

"And how is everyone?" She cleared her throat, certain that Professor Flitwick knew exactly who it was that she was talking about. There was no fooling the charms professor.

"Well, for the most part. The team of students, past and present, have gone home. Professor Slughorn seems to have managed to expand his office, and Professor Sprout's orders of plants have been arriving at all times."

"Really? Well, it's good that she could find replacements for all of the species she keeps." After a tense moment, Hermione gave in to the temptation to ask the question that interested her most – the words had been trying to burst from her mouth since her arrival. "What about Minerva?"

Professor Flitwick closed his eyes in relief.

"She has a good friend in you, Miss Granger. I won't speculate about the circumstances behind your departure, but I can only tell you that she is working herself too hard. She refuses help from all quarters, and she hasn't passed on any tasks to me as her deputy. As for the Ministry..." He sighed deeply and shrugged as though to say that such bodies would always be riddled with incompetence.

"Is she alright?" Concern turned Hermione cold.

"Minerva hasn't stopped working long enough to respond to that question, which is an answer in itself, I suppose." Although there was no hint of condemnation in his eyes, Hermione looked away, ashamed of herself. She was Minerva's support network and she had given up. "I'd imagine that she would appreciate a visit from you, miss Granger, however brief."

"I- I hope so. Thank you, sir." Hermione placed the teacup on his desk and stood. "I should go and see her now."

He nodded in approval.

"She's in her office – the Headmistress' office." It was as well that he reminded her, because Hermione had been planning her route to the Transfigurations corridor in accordance with the positions of the staircases. She hurried towards Minerva's new office, determined not to miss her, and ignored the curious stares of the gargoyles.

"I'm Hermione Granger, here to see the Headmistress."

The gargoyle closer to her turned to look at its companion.

"Professor McGonagall doesn't want to be disturbed, Hermione-Granger-here-to-see-the-Headmistress." They chortled together, and Hermione fought the urge to curse them; such an action would hardly endear her to Minerva, after all.

"Actually, the Deputy Headmaster sent me with an urgent message."

"Which is?" The second gargoyle suppressed a yawn.

"Which is none of your business, so get out of my way!"

The first gargoyle laughed so hard that Hermione wondered if he would fall from his perch. He moved aside and, reluctantly, his partner followed suit. Before they could change their minds, Hermione dashed up the stairs, calling a 'thank you' over her shoulder. She swallowed, hand shaking as she reached up to knock on the door.

She heard a chair being pushed back and the smart tap of Minerva's heels against the polished wooden floor. Seconds later, the door swung inwards. Hermione wondered if Minerva could hear her heart hammering against her chest. The Headmistress eyed her stonily, betraying not a hint of emotion.

"Hello, Minerva." Hermione reminded herself internally not to fidget. It was difficult when under such intense scrutiny.

"Miss Granger." She continued to stand in the doorway.

"Is it alright if I come in?" There was a pause that lasted just long enough for Hermione to suspect that her request would be denied.

"I'm extremely busy at the moment." Minerva sighed impatiently when she saw that Hermione displayed no signs of performing the quick about-turn that such a sentence almost always triggered. "Oh, very well then."

Minerva turned on her heel and returned to her desk, leaving Hermione to examine the interior of her office. Some of Professor Dumbledore's instruments remained, but they were neatly lined up and categorised. Her owl sat on what had been Fawkes' perch, but aside from the orderly nature of the furnishings, there had been little change to the decor.

"Are you pleased with your new office?" Hermione took the seat opposite Minerva's, trying to avoid looking at the portrait of Dumbledore, and the more recent addition of Snape. There was something disconcerting about the former Potions Master's glare, even on canvas.

"It's more... spacious than I'd expected." Minerva dipped her quill into the inkwell and continued writing. "What brings you to my office?"

"Professor Flitwick invited me over for morning tea, and I thought that I'd come to see you. It's been a while." Hermione gave a tentative smile.

"Ah, well you tell Filius that you have seen me with your own eyes and that I'm _perfectly_ well." Minerva leant down too hard on the parchment, causing a little ink to squirt from the tip of the quill. Hermione was wise enough to pretend not to notice.

"And are you?"

Minerva froze. She sat up slowly and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Her- Miss Granger, I'm fine, although I'd probably be happier if others were capable of minding their own business."

A frosty silence descended. Hermione averted her gaze and looked up at Professor Dumbledore, who was watching the scene morosely.

"You're my friend, Minerva – that makes you my business. Professor Flitwick cares about you too." There was no response. "I'm sorry that I left."

"You needn't be; it was my doing and it was for the best." Giving up all pretence of work, Minerva rose and walked towards the window, looking out over the Hogwarts grounds.

"I've missed you awfully, and I think that you miss me too." It took a great deal of courage for Hermione to voice this speculation. She saw Minerva tense. "I'm sorry."

"Well you shouldn't be. In fact, I ought to be the one apologising. It's all wrong." Her voice was utterly melancholy. Hermione stood but did not go any closer, because Minerva raised a hand to caution her against it.

"What's wrong?"

"_This_ is, whatever it may be." Minerva shook her head. "I still don't know how it happened."

"How what happened?" Hermione was deeply confused.

"You recall the... incident that took place on the night before your departure?" Minerva spoke as though she wished that she had no memory of what had transpired. Her back was to Hermione.

"Of course."

"It should never have happened, and it was my fault that it did. I was too ashamed to admit to whatever damnable affinity it was that caused me to instigate such an... abuse of my position, and as I result I allowed you to get too close."

"Minerva, what is it that you feel?" It was unbearable not to know. Hope flared within Hermione. She took a step closer.

"Please don't make me answer that question. I'm begging you, put it out of your head and try and forget what I've done." Minerva turned to face her, looking positively terrified. "I'm sorry."

"I won't make you say it – not if you don't want to – but do you..." Hermione's voice cracked. She inhaled deeply. "Do you feel it too?"

"Yes. I can't help it. I wish that I'd convinced you to leave me sooner." Minerva jerked as Hermione took her hand. "That's not wise – I've told y- what do you mean 'do you feel it too'?"

"I have feelings for you too. I have done for months." Hermione reached up and caressed the side of Minerva's face, delighted that she was not pushed away.

"You can't." Minerva looked stricken. She was heartbreakingly beautiful, even in panic. There was nothing Hermione wanted more than to reassure her that she would never hurt her.

"Then why else would I do this?" Leaning forward slowly, Hermione brushed her lips against Minerva's, wrapping her arms around her waist.

"Hermione..." Minerva sighed in pleasure. She shook her head as though to clear it. "What is it that you want?"

"You." She kissed Minerva deeply, stroking her back almost reverently.

"But... why?" With uncharacteristic shyness, Minerva cast her eyes downwards. "I'm too old for you, Hermione. You deserve someone who can be everything that you deserve and I can't do that."

"Why? You're everything that I want." She continued to brush soothing patterns against Minerva's slender back, determined that she would be receptive to the answer. "You're clever, you're brave, you're loyal, and very beautiful. You make me so happy, even when everything else is going badly."

"Do you really think so?"

"I know so." Hermione gave her a soft, lingering kiss. She could feel Minerva relaxing against her and she loved it.

"And what are your expectations?"

"I love you; I want you to let me, and hopefully do the same." Fearful that it was too much to hope for, Hermione took a step back. So much lay in the balance. She didn't want to have her heart broken. Her heart leapt when Minerva grasped her wrist.

"I can, but what about other people?"

"I was hoping that we could be exclusive." Hermione laughed. Minerva sighed in mock exasperation, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "In all seriousness, this is ours. We don't have to tell anyone unless we want to."

"It's utterly illogical, I know, but I want to try this." The words seemed to surprise Minerva as they came from her mouth. "There's so much to talk about."

"I can wait, if you want." Giddy with the knowledge that Minerva cared for her too, Hermione was quite content to sit and consider her good fortune.

"No. I'll ask Filius to deal with the order of supplies, and we can go to my rooms." Minerva smiled, her eyes warm as she looked at Hermione.

"Thank you."

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the delay. University is... well, time consuming. It's an incredible experience, if stressful.**

**OoOoO**

In some ways it was like any other day; Hermione was curled on Minerva's sofa, a cup of tea balanced on her lap. There was one significant difference – she was holding Minerva's hand. They were sitting in silence, content to simply be together. Hermione struggled not to fidget or shake. She had never imagined that her feelings would be reciprocated, that she would have an opportunity to live through such a scenario. Now that she had her dream, it was essential that she didn't ruin it by panicking.

"Are you quite alright?" Concern was visible in the light frown Minerva gave her, and Hermione wondered if the older witch felt the same uncertainty that she did, and the same fear of rejection.

"Yes, I- I feel fine." Hermione gave what she hoped to be a reassuring smile, shuffling over in order to move closer to Minerva, whose eyes still contained a shadow of doubt."Happy."

"Aren't you frightened?" Minerva placed a firm hand on Hermione's shoulder, preventing her from kissing the worries away. She spoke slowly, her voice low. "Doesn't it matter to you that people will talk?"

"Not especially, no." Hermione saw Minerva's look of disbelief and decided that it would be better to elaborate. "There are so many important things about life, and idle gossip isn't one of them. You, on the other hand..."

With trembling fingers, Hermione reached out and caressed the side of Minerva's face, allowing her fingers to slip downwards until they were covering the graceful curve of her neck. She could feel Minerva's pulse and the warmth of her skin. The right to act with such familiarity was everything Hermione had hoped for and more.

"Hermione." With a soft sigh, Minerva leant into her touch for a brief moment. "What about your friends? They matter to you a great deal, unless I'm mistaken."

"You're right; I do care about them. They care about me too, though, which means they'll want me to be happy. Harry knows about my feelings for you, and he understands."

Minerva's eyes widened slightly before closing.

"And Ronald? Ginny? What about your parents?" She shook her head. "I can't imagine that they'll prove to be quite so amenable."

"Ginny ... well, she knows that I have no romantic feelings for her brother. Ron's feelings for me complicate things, but we've been best friends for years; he's bound to come around. Eventually." Giving a thin smile, Hermione wondered if she believed that things could ever be the same between her and Ronald Weasley again. The thought of her parents, now Wendell and Monica Wilkins, was a difficult one, and Hermione felt her throat burning. "When it comes to my mum and dad – after I find them, that is – explaining why I modified their memories and fought in a war without telling them is going to be a lot more trying than telling them about this."

Hermione's voice cracked. Even now, her parents didn't know that she existed. The sooner all of the Death Eaters were sentenced, the better. She folded her legs and wrapped her arms around them, determined not to cry when it was imperative that Minerva understand that she could cope with the results of their relationship.

"I'm sorry." Tentatively, Minerva reached out and brushed Hermione's hair back from her face. Unable to speak due to the lump in her throat, Hermione said nothing. Minerva withdrew her hand, and it was obvious that she had misinterpreted Hermione's silence. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's not your fault. I just... I miss them." Blinking furiously, Hermione rested her head on Minerva's shoulder.

"That's perfectly understandable – nothing you should be ashamed of." She wrapped a comforting arm around Hermione, and they were quite.

Hearing Minerva discuss family made Hermione think of something that she was ashamed not to have given a great deal of thought, previously. She didn't know if Minerva had a family, large or small, although if she had any living relatives with whom she was close, it was unlikely that she would have failed to mention them to Hermione in the course of their friendship. Curious, Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes and turned to give Minerva her full attention.

"Minerva?" It was, upon reflection, a rather awkward question to ask, and rather personal.

"Yes?"

"Do you- do you have any family?" Immediately, Hermione felt guilty. A sharp intake of breath was her only response. Minerva's expression froze, and she looked rather lost. "It's okay; you don't have to answer that. I shouldn't have asked."

She squeezed Minerva's hand gently, feeling dreadfully inadequate.

"You have every right to ask – it was simply a surprise, although it shouldn't have been. I was an only child, and my parents were killed in the fight against Grindelwald. My father was an Auror, and my mother was a Healer; she was a half-blood, and very successful in her field – perhaps why she was targeted. Just over a week after her funeral, my father went after Grindelwald for revenge. I have some distant relatives, but we're not what you could term family." Minerva gave a tired smile that softened her features.

Hermione cursed her own stupidity, feeling that her tactlessness in discussing her own predicament with Minerva could rival Ron's.

"I had no idea. I-"

"Don't apologise for it. It was a long time ago, and I'll help you find your parents as soon as this is all over. I want to see you happy." Minerva spoke stiffly, as though unsure of how hew proclamation would be received. Hermione felt her relax as she embraced her, taking in Minerva's lavender scent.

"I love you." As she felt Minerva's hand come to rest on her back, Hermione felt completely secure, and confident that she would see her parents again soon.

"And I love you." Minerva turned her head and pressed her mouth against Hermione's in a hungry kiss that caused them both to forget the outside world. They had discussed all immediate concerns, and Hermione was delighted with the reminder that she had the right to share this blissful pleasure with Minerva whenever she chose to.

They spent the morning together, and most of the afternoon, discussing a variety of topics and exchanging several lingering kisses, until Hermione realised that Minerva was distracted – most likely because she had abandoned the reigns and let another deal with the running of Hogwarts for the first time during her brief tenure as Headmistress.

"I had better get going." Hermione stood and put on her cardigan, enjoying the feeling of having Minerva's eyes on her.

"Are you sure? You're welcome to stay." Minerva too got to her feet, and although her offer was genuine, Hermione knew that it would be wrong to keep her from working any longer.

"No, no. If I'm not back for dinner, Mrs Weasley will start to worry." Hermione had to keep herself from grimacing as she imagined the possibilities for tonight's 'subtle' push towards Ron; she didn't want to worry Minerva.

"Ah... well, I meant that you could return here, if you wanted." Seeing Hermione's surprised expression, Minerva hurried on. "I meant in my spare room, although if that makes you uncomfortable in light of today's revelations, then I'd-"

"I would like that very much, but I think that I'll spend the rest of the week with the Weasleys first. I'm not quite ready to leave Harry, Ron and Ginny. We have some things to work out before I can leave the Burrow." Although she wanted to be close to Minerva, Hermione knew that that she had made the right decision. She needed to fix things with Ron and quickly, because the longer she left it, the more damage would be done. It was going to be tough, but having Minerva behind her made all the difference in the world.

"A very good idea." They shared a lingering kiss. "When will I see you next?"

"Harry invited me to come with him and spend the morning with him and Ginny and little Teddy, so probably during the afternoon – lunchtime, if I can manage to get away early." Hermione was looking forward to playing with the baby, but she was already saddened by the idea of being away from Minerva.

**OoOoO**

"So, what did Flitwick say? You were gone for hours." As soon as they had eaten dinner, Ginny had all but dragged Hermione upstairs, claiming that they were going to have an early night. She sat on her bed, looking down at Hermione with the same determination that her mother often displayed.

"Well, it was... I..." Hermione sighed, flopping back onto her camp bed. "I wasn't with him for very long, to be honest."

"I knew it!" Her expression triumphant, Ginny clapped her hands in delight. "Tell me everything."

"There's not that much to tell, really." Feeling shy, Hermione looked away, and when she next looked at Ginny she saw that her friend's eyebrows were raised suggestively. Sitting up, she threw her pillow at Ginny.

"Oh no?"

"No. We talked a lot, and we kissed quite a few times as well." With a wave of her wand, Hermione summoned her fallen pillow and got under the covers. She lay down and turned to face the wall, focussing on the poster of Gwenog Jones punching the air. "There was nothing more than that."

"You can tell me, you know." All traces of playfulness faded from her voice as Ginny realised that she had pushed Hermione a little too far. "I didn't mean to tease you."

Hermione had always listened to Ginny when she had wanted to talk about her love life, but never had she chosen to confide in her about anyone save for Minerva, and even then she was far from specific. There was a creak as Ginny stood up, and a moment later Hermione felt her mattress shift as Ginny sat down behind her.

"It's okay." Still, Hermione didn't roll over.

"You love her so much, don't you?"

"Yes. Yes I do." Hermione smiled, thinking that tomorrow she would have the opportunity to tell Minerva the same thing, and again every day in the foreseeable future.

"And you're going to be together, aren't you?"

"We are, but for now we'd rather that not many people knew about it." Hermione rolled over and looked intently at Ginny, willing her friend to understand the importance of their situation. "Please keep my secret, Ginny."

"I promise." For a moment Ginny looked completely solemn, but the corners of her mouth turned upwards after a moment, and there was a mischievous light in her eyes that Hermione knew well. "So tell me what it's like?"

"What? I told you; nothing happened!" Hermione fought the temptation to push Ginny from her bed and onto the floor.

"Not _that_ – being her girlfriend." Ginny's attempt at an innocent expression was somewhat damaged by the way she shook with suppressed laughter. Despite herself, Hermione smiled.

"Brilliant." Hermione covered her mouth as she yawned, pulling the covers up around her. Unfortunately, they made a poor substitute for the arms she was imagining. "Minerva makes me feel so safe and secure, but it's as though there's never been anything so exciting in my entire life. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah..." Ginny's expression softened slightly, and she cast a brief look at the ceiling, through which Harry would no doubt be sleeping in his bed. "Yeah, I do."

**OoOoO**

"Hurry up, Harry!" Ginny watched impatiently as her boyfriend accepted Mrs Weasley's offer of more eggs and toast. He looked at her and shrugged apologetically. "Honestly..."

Although she could quite happily have eaten another slice of toast, Hermione thought that it would be prudent to abstain from re-filling her plate and avoid Ginny's ire. She folded her cutlery neatly and waited, listening to the conversation between Charlie and Mr Weasley and avoiding meeting Ron's gaze.

"Hermione?" Ron gave a smile made slightly awkward by the fact that he was still chewing. Wisely, he swallowed the food in his mouth before continuing. "Would you like to come out to the orchard and play some quidditch?"

An awkward silence descended, and Hermione was very conscious of the sound of knives and forks scraping plates. Although Mrs Weasley's back was turned as she washed dishes, it was clear from the way she stood unnaturally still that she was listening to every word.

"No thank you." Hermione looked away so that she didn't have to witness the look of hurt in Ron's eyes. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

She stood and pushed her chair in, rushing from the room and up the stairs. Sitting down on her bed, Hermione ran her hands through her thick brown hair. She felt too hot, and it didn't help that the sun shone directly into Ginny's room during the day. She knew exactly what would calm her down. There was nothing Hermione wanted more than to see Minerva, even if she couldn't discuss the situation with Ron. Neither one of them was ready to go public with their relationship, but it wasn't fair to leave her friend in the dark.

There was a creak as the door opened slowly to reveal Ginny, and Harry behind her, both of whom looked surprisingly cheerful.

"Shall we make a move, then?" Harry looked rather keen to leave, although he was shifting nervously.

Ginny nodded in response. She was all but bouncing on the spot, her smile infectious.

"Of course." Hermione followed them down the stairs, keeping her eyes straight ahead as they passed the kitchen; she didn't feel like seeing Molly Weasley's disapproving stare being directed towards her.

When they left the house, Hermione was struck by the beauty of the English countryside. She could see golden wheat fields in every direction, and the sky was an expanse of blue dappled by the odd, wispy white cloud. As she followed Harry and Ginny (at a slight distance in order to give them a small degree of privacy), Hermione couldn't help but wonder if Minerva was taking full advantage of the weather. Somehow, she doubted it. Still, she would make sure that they spent some time outside during her afternoon visit.

"Do you remember where to apparate to or will we try side-along?" Although they were a couple, the way Harry only seemed to address Ginny irritated Hermione – after all, Ginny had been there more times than she had and so was less likely to get lost.

"I'll manage, I think." Ginny poked Harry's side playfully, and he swatted away her tanned arm. "If not, you can rescue me; we all know how much you love to save people."

"I'll let you splinch yourself for that comment. Have a day, 'Mione." Harry grinned, but Hermione felt confused.

"What? I'm coming with you, aren't I?" Puzzled, she looked between her two friends. Ginny shot her a pitying look that reminded Hermione that she was Fred and George's younger sister. Well, George's – there was no Fred-and-George anymore.

"No. You're going to see _Minerva_, and we're going to go and see Teddy. Afterwards, we're going out for lunch and you are going to... well, I don't need to know the details." Harry smiled sheepishly, taking Ginny's hand. "See you later, and tell her- tell her I said 'hi'."

"Thank you, Harry." It was an incredibly touching gesture, and Hermione knew that he understood how grateful she really was. "Give Teddy a great big cuddle from me."

"Alright, now get going!" Ginny rolled her eyes as though incapable of understanding why Hermione was still with them. Not needing to be told twice, Hermione closed her eyes and disapparated.

When she next opened them, she was standing outside of the familiar Hogwarts grounds. Trying not to consider the atrocities that had taken place in the surrounding area, Hermione focussed instead on what Minerva would be doing. Most likely reviewing the various Professors' requests for equipment to replace what was lost and prioritising paperwork. As she stepped into the entrance hall, Hermione appreciated the coolness of the air around her.

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione turned, trying to locate the voice. It didn't take her long to spot Madam Pince leaning on a walking stick as she hobbled from the Great Hall. It seemed that she was to be forgiven for her excessive borrowing of books and time spent in the library during her time as a student, because the librarian looked positively delighted to see her.

"Madam Pince – I'm glad to see that you're back on your feet." With the exception of a few more grey hairs and an obvious limp, it seemed that she hadn't changed at all, although it was rather strange seeing her smiling.

"After what you've done for the library, you can call me Irma. I was terrified of what I was going to find, but there wasn't a page out of place." Madam Pince – Irma – patted her shoulder and headed towards the library, leaving Hermione in her wake, shocked by the encounter.

"She's right, you know." A voice that made Hermione's heart hammer echoed. She turned sharply to see Minerva descending the stairs. She wasn't wearing an outer-robe, but this appeared to be Minerva's only concession to the weather; her outfit consisted of a full length black skirt, white blouse and a dark waistcoat. "You did do a lot for the school, in particular the library."

Minerva reached the bottom of the stairway, and Hermione was hard pressed not to embrace her.

"It's such a special place..." Hermione trailed off, flustered by Minerva's proximity. She could practically taste her soft, creamy skin.

"It seems as though the two of you have reached a new understanding, Hermione. I trust that Irma has no intention of _filching_ you." Minerva folded her arms and scrutinised a spluttering Hermione. It had never occurred to her that the staff would speculate about the romantic habits of their colleagues; much less reach the same conclusion as the students.

"You're a dark horse." Shaking her head, Hermione climbed the stairs, grateful for the coolness of the castle, its stone walls sheltering her from the relentless heat of the sun.

"Perhaps I am. I had thought that you were going to see Andromeda and Teddy this morning," Minerva sounded a little distracted, and Hermione wondered if she had made the right decision, "Not that it isn't wonderful to see you again so soon after yesterday; a lovely surprise."

"It turns out that Harry and Ginny have taken it upon themselves to provide me with an alibi. I think that they're looking forward to having some time alone together."

"Ah. And how are you going to explain your decision to return next week?" There was an underlying question in her words.

"I'm not certain, but I'll definitely come back." If they hadn't been in a public corridor, Hermione would have slipped her hand into Minerva's.

"Well, I may have a solution to your problem – to two of your problems, actually." Minerva opened her door and gestured for Hermione to precede her into her rooms. "You will return so that we can maximise the time spent looking for your parents. I've spoken to a couple of people in the Ministry, and they will help us to locate your parents, although it's best to leave the restoration of their memories to a professional."

"Do you really mean that?" Hermione couldn't conceal the hope in her voice. She knew that it was a lot to ask for – so much so that she felt a little guilty – but the prospect of seeing her parents again and having them back in her life was too good to even consider refusing.

"Of course. I wanted to be sure that they could do it before I told you, and-" Minerva fell silent as she was winded by the force of Hermione's embrace.

"Thank you so much, Minerva." Her voice shaky, Hermione could only whisper into Minerva's ear. A chilling thought occurred to her. "What about the trials?"

Minerva took her hand and guided her to the window seat. It seemed that some form of cooling charm had been cast throughout the apartments, because even with the sun directly on her skin, Hermione felt comfortable.

"They'll begin before the end of the week. I'd imagine that you'll receive a call to the witness stand for one or two of the high profile cases – Rodolphus Lestrange's, for example." She placed a reassuring hand on Hermione's wrist.

The possibility had occurred to Hermione before, however she had tried to banish all thoughts of the impending court cases from her mind; the last thing that she wanted was to see any Death Eaters again. To lock them away without a hearing would stain the perceived goodness of their victory – which had not been clean or golden – and Hermione understood that the magical community couldn't afford to have its new beginning tainted by a failure to meet the rights of the prisoners. Still, the idea of coming face to face with Voldemort's followers was a chilling one.

"That's good." Hermione couldn't bring herself to meet Minerva's eyes. "I'm sure that I'll be fine."

It was a lie. She didn't want to think about the time she had spent in the Malfoy family's manor or the means by which so many of her friends had died. Minerva didn't contradict her, instead wrapping an arm around Hermione's waist.

"When I realised that... this could be within my grasp, I panicked." The confession succeeded in drawing Hermione's attention. "I was so surprised by the very thought of it that I couldn't bring myself to follow you to the Burrow – do you remember?"

"Yes, I do." It had slipped her mind, but as Minerva spoke, she began to understand.

"And when I kissed you, I was terrified of what you would think of me." Minerva gave a small frown as she reflected upon the experience. "My point is this: although I was afraid, some good came from the experience."

"Only some?" Hermione smiled teasingly.

"Alright, perhaps a little more than that." Minerva laughed musically as Hermione shifted, placing a series of kisses along her neck. It was easy for Hermione to push all unpleasant thoughts from her mind as she continued upwards to Minerva's mouth.

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review. **


	8. Chapter 8

**To those people who have subscribed to or added this story to your favourites without leaving me a review, this is your chance to do it. Trust me, you have no idea how much I appreciate reviews. I'd be delighted if you left me one. Yes – you.**

**OoOoO**

It wasn't always easy to do the right thing. The months she had spent travelling the country with Harry and Ron were proof of that. She had imagined that after the horror of the battle, she would have a new perspective that would prevent her from fearing the little things that had bothered her before. However, this was not the case. Her friends meant the world to her, and Hermione didn't want to lose a single one of them – especially not in light of what they had lived through together. It didn't seem like she had a choice. Her stomach was churning as she considered what she was going to have to do; it was her final night with the Weasleys before returning to Hogwarts, and she still hadn't set Ron straight. With a flick of her wand, Hermione cast a cooling charm. Even the nights were warm, the oppressive heat causing her t-shirt to stick uncomfortably to her back.

Refreshed, Hermione walked around the little garden, taking in all of the details of which she had become so fond – the Burrow, after all, was like a second home to her – and watching the magnificent night sky. Hundreds of miles away, Minerva would be in Scotland, perhaps in her new office. It didn't matter that she was far away, though, because she would be looking at the same stars as Hermione.

The thought achieved two things: it caused Hermione to remember how brave Minerva was, and to borrow a little of that formidable strength, and it also made her feel slightly guilty that she hadn't lived up to the Gryffindor bravery and been clearer about her feelings, or lack of, towards Ron – Minerva deserved so much better than such ambiguity, even if neither of them felt ready for their budding relationship to be put into the view of the public eye.

Hearing footsteps, muted by the grass, Hermione turned. She had to force herself not to raise her wand – they weren't at war any more. It was only Ron.

"Hermione?" He came to stand beside her, hands in pockets. "Mum sent me to tell you that dinner's nearly ready. What are you up to?"

"Oh... I'm just thinking." She sighed deeply. There was no time like the present. "Listen Ron, we need to talk."

"Yeah?" A spark of hope flared behind his blue eyes, and Hermione felt remorse for what she was about to say. "What about?"

"Us. I love you, Ron, as a friend. I'm always going to care about you, but you're like a brother to me. I'm sorry I didn't set you straight sooner – I barely noticed when we were trying to find the horcruxes, because there was so much going on, but I should have said something sooner. I'm so sorry Ron, but I don't think of you that way." Biting her lip, Hermione wrapped both arms around him in a brief embrace. He looked dazed, and more than a little hurt.

"Is there someone else?" A hint of anger made its way into his voice, and Hermione realised that even if she wanted to, it probably wouldn't be prudent to let him know about Minerva for a long time.

"Oh Ron, that's hardly the point!" Hermione folded her arms, wishing that she wasn't so warm. It certainly wasn't helping her to keep her temper. "I don't have any romantic feelings for you; none at all. Your friendship means so much to me, and I don't want to lose it. That's why I'm going back to Hogwarts tomorrow – to give you some space."

"But I thought the repairs were finished." He placed a hand on her shoulder, willing her to stay. "What will you do?"

"I want to decide what it is that I'm going to do with my future, and to do that I have to have a clear head. I'm also going to find my parents and bring them back to England." Her voice cracked, and Hermione paused to take a deep breath. "There's so much to think about, and I think that it's best for both of us if I go."

Ron nodded slowly.

"What'll you do there?" Seeing the look she gave him, Ron hurried on. "I don't mean that you need to stay, but won't you get a bit bored? You don't really have anywhere else to go, and it isn't fair that you should have to go back to school just because of this."

It was surprisingly selfless of Ron to have considered her feelings so carefully. Hermione's expression softened.

"The library. Where else do I go?" A self-mocking note entered her voice, and they both smiled as they remembered all of the occasions on which Ron had teased her about her obsession with books.

"Good point." Ron gave a sheepish grin. "But what about afterwards? Once you've got less on your plate, couldn't we at least try?"

It had been going too well to last. Of course Ron wasn't going to get over his feelings as quickly as all that. Frustrated, Hermione marched back into the house. She wasn't ready to face anyone else, really. All she wanted to do was go up to Ginny's room and climb into her camp bed. However, Molly was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on what looked and smelled like a delicious meal. Thankfully her back was to Hermione, so there was sufficient time for her to wipe away her tears and force a smile.

"That looks lovely, Mrs Weasley." Without having to be asked, Hermione waved her wand and helped carry the shepherd's pie and accompanying side dishes into the dining room.

"Thank you, dear." Molly dried her hands on a hand towel and followed. "Have you seen Ronald? He was supposed to bring you in for dinner, but it wouldn't surprise me if he had got lost along the way."

"He found me. He's still outside." Hermione's voice sounded overly bright even to her own ears. "I'll just go and fetch the others, shall I?"

Without waiting for an answer, Hermione raced upstairs. She rested her back against the wall outside Ginny's room and closed her eyes. It was going to be a long night, but at least she had attempted to do the right thing even if she had made a mess of it...

Forcing herself to carry on, Hermione knocked on Ginny's door. Even though she had been given permission several times to come and go as she pleased, Hermione valued her own privacy enough to want to attempt to preserve Ginny's.

And then, of course, there was Harry... As Hermione had predicted, there was a telltale whispered exchange and a slight rustling.

"Come in!" Ginny was sitting on her bed, cross legged and suspiciously flushed. Harry was standing, apparently examining the poster of Gwenog Jones exactly as he had done yesterday, and the day before that. Both of them relaxed as Hermione closed the door behind her. "Thank Merlin it's just you, Hermione – we thought you were Ron."

"Well next time it might be! I'm going back tomorrow, remember?" Hermione sat down on her camp bed, trying not to think about how she was going to break the news to Mrs Weasley. Sensing her mood, Ginny hopped up.

"I'm going to go and see if George wants to eat dinner." She swept from the room, leaving Harry and Hermione alone.

"Did you do it, then – tell Ron?" Harry lowered himself down to sit beside her, although his legs didn't fit onto the bed very well.

"Yes. I don't think he's given up on the idea of being with me." Hermione rested her head against Harry's shoulder. "I did my best to explain. I really did, but it didn't seem to sink in."

"I know." Awkwardly, Harry moved his arm to pat her head. "And nobody's better at explaining things than you, Hermione. Even though you've explained how you feel, Ron's still going to take some time getting his head around the idea of staying friends with you – you know what he's like."

"Thanks, Harry." Sniffling, Hermione did her best to compose herself. "I needed to hear that."

"Will we go downstairs now?" Harry clambered to his feet and offered Hermione a helping hand.

"Merlin, you're starting to sound like Ron now... Just be glad I'm not Ginny, or I'd probably have hexed you for that." Allowing Harry to pull her upright, Hermione adjusted her hair in Ginny's mirror before following him out of the room.

"You can't hex me! I'm the Chosen One." Harry dodged as Hermione tried to swat him, and together they descended the stairs. Ginny was waiting at the bottom, alone. "Isn't George coming?"

Ginny shook her head in response.

"You know how he's been. Some days he manages, and other days..." She shrugged in a gesture that was vaguely reminiscent of her mother. "Let's go for dinner."

Harry took the seat Mrs Weasley had left beside Ron, and Hermione and Ginny sat opposite at them. They helped themselves to the food, and the meal began as normal. Arthur was asking Harry about corkscrews when Mrs Weasley turned to Hermione.

"A letter arrived for you a few minutes ago, Hermione. It looked like Minerva McGonagall's handwriting on the envelope." There was an underlying request for more information, which Hermione noticed despite the surprise of Minerva having written. She was immediately worried. It occurred to her that Minerva may have needed the company – she had even asked her to stay.

"Oh... I'm not sure what it'll be about." Hermione tired to smile and continue with her food, although her appetite was now non-existent. "I'll read it after main course."

"Don't worry Molly; it won't be anything serious." Arthur gave his wife a comforting smile and returned his attention to his curiosity about muggle appliances. "So muggles put cork in their bottles of wine? That's ingenious!"

"Yes, although some bottles have metal caps that can be twisted." Hermione paused, recalling the way that her parents would open a bottle after a particularly stressful day at their dental practice. They had started allowing her to have a glass or two with dinner in the summer after her fourth year.

"I see. Which do muggles prefer?" Fascinated, he looked between Harry and Hermione, both of whom were trying not to catch the other's eye.

"Well, some muggles think that wine with a cork is better than wine with a metal cap on top, although I'm not sure that it's really true." Her parents had never expressed a preference, save for white wine over red in order to avoid teeth being stained.

"The Dursleys weren't bothered either way, to be honest. As long as the white was chilled and the red was warm, it didn't much matter." Harry shrugged as though to say the memories didn't faze him. "I never really liked the way it tasted. What about you, Hermione?"

"I think that red's rather nice, actually. Just don't tell my parents once I've found them..." She gave a sad smile, trying not to think about how long it was going to take to find them and return them to their home.

"Have you made any progress, dear?" Mrs Weasley looked at her, curious and encouraging. It was in moments such as these that Hermione worried most about losing the woman who had become a second mother to her.

"I'm not going to go until the convictions have been made, although Minerva has said that she plans on helping me – she's spoken to the Ministry on my behalf, and they're willing to assist." Hermione smiled in response to the various congratulations that resulted from her announcement.

"You're a hero, Hermione. You could have spoken to them yourself and I'm sure they'd have listened. It only makes sense." Ron looked at Hermione as though trying to work out why she was so reluctant to use her new influence. It was a concept that appealed to him more than it did her.

"Minerva has a great deal of experience working with the Ministry, Ron. Don't worry – she'll make sure that Hermione gets her parents back in good time. Mark my words, nobody there would like to get on her bad side." Arthur managed to reassure Hermione whilst placating his son, and although he was never prone to being as direct at his wife, his approach too was necessary in keeping the Weasley household afloat.

"Your father's right. If anyone can get quick results, it's Minerva McGonagall." Molly's eyes widened. "Don't you think you'd better check that letter now you've finished eating? I left it on the kitchen table."

Without further prompting, Hermione left the table. She walked into the kitchen, overcoming the temptation to run, and lifted the parchment from the tabletop. Sure enough, Minerva's neat cursive had spelled out her name on the envelope. Hermione unfolded the letter with almost greedy haste, eager to see what its subject was.

'_Hermione,_

_I am writing to let you know that the Ministry of Magic have succeeded in locating your parents. They are living in the outskirts of Sydney and running a successful dental practice. Do not allow yourself to worry – they are both safe and well, thanks to your careful planning and foresight. A team of Unspeakables and Healers from St. Mungo's have assembled in order to work out how best to restore their memories. Ordinarily, I would have delivered such news in person, however I thought it best to allow you the option of remaining with your friends. You are welcome, of course, to return to Hogwarts tonight if this is what you would prefer._

_I trust that you are well and that your friendship with Messrs Potter and Weasley is in good repair._

_Yours always,_

_Minerva'_

She had to read the first paragraph twice in order to take it in: her parents had been located and were both, according to the letter, in good health. It was exactly as Hermione had allowed herself to hope. It had been most considerate of Minerva to offer her the opportunity to stay with her friends, yet Hermione knew that she had to find out every detail concerning her parents.

Scarcely believing that she would be reunited with her family, Hermione returned to the dining room. She appreciated the way in which Harry and the Weasleys were watching her so intently – they cared about her and would always be her family too.

"My parents are in Sydney and they're both fine." Hermione smiled broadly.

"That's great! We all knew that they'd be okay, but now it's definite..." Ginny launched herself at Hermione with a delighted squeal.

"That's brilliant, Hermione." Harry gave her an affectionate smile, and she hoped that were their situations reversed, she would be able to have the good grace to offer the same heart-felt congratulations.

"I'm going back to Hogwarts to find out more." Folding up the letter, Hermione slipped it into the pocket of her jeans.

"Are you sure, dear?" Concern radiated from Molly's eyes, and there was also an underlying need to keep everyone close together – she hadn't been pleased when Bill and Fleur returned to Shell Cottage, Charlie to Romania and Percy to his own flat in London. "Would you like me or Arthur to come with you and make sure that you get on alright?"

"Thank you, but no: I have to know everything that I can. I'll come back and visit as soon as I can – I promise." Grateful for Mrs Weasley's maternal feelings, Hermione embraced bent over and her.

"She's right, mum. Waiting isn't nice." Ginny met her mother's gaze defiantly as both Weasley women recalled the way in which she had left the Room of Requirement during the battle. Arthur coughed, breaking the tension.

"Well, we're behind you all the way Hermione. Come back any time." He stood, returning Hermione's hug. After having said goodbye, Hermione packed her belongings with the use of a few choice spells and disapparated, arriving on the threshold of the school grounds.

Trying not to think of Voldemort or the atrocities that had been committed in his name, Hermione fixed her eyes on the castle and avoided looking too closely at any of the shadows. She wondered if she'd ever be able to look at her school in the same light again, and how Minerva managed to feel her usual fondness for Hogwarts. Then again, Minerva was of a stronger disposition than most...

Glad when she finally reached the double doors leading into the castle, Hermione stepped into the brightness of the entrance hall, her trunk following obediently, hovering a foot from the ground. She could hear the faint sounds of the evening meal being eaten by the castles' inhabitants and stood nervously in the doorway, wondering if she should wait for Minerva to finish eating.

"Hermione!" Hagrid waved her over enthusiastically, ending any chance she had of waiting unnoticed. "Well don' jus' stand there – come on in."

The four house tables remained at the sides of the room, however the head table had been restored to its former position. In the middle, sitting in the throne-like chair of the Headmistress, was Minerva. Outwardly, she appeared comfortable at her new position at the table, although Hermione was certain that it would be a different story inwardly. And she was prepared to listen.

"Hello Hagrid." As she approached the table, Hermione returned his wave with uncharacteristic shyness and hoped that none of the other teachers observing her had noticed the way in which her gaze had lingered on Minerva. "Professors."

Amid the protests that Hermione was free to address them by their given names, Minerva stood. Her cutlery was folded neatly on the plate and they were in full view of Minerva's colleagues, so Hermione refrained from asking if she wanted to stay and eat another course.

"Progress has been made in locating the Grangers, and so I'm going to fill in Hermione – excuse us." Gracefully, Minerva swept out from behind her seat and made her way around the table, placing a hand on Hermione's back in order to propel her onwards.

"Goodnight." With a final look at the professors, Hermione allowed herself to be led out of the hall. "Thank you for writing to me and for everything that you've done."

Minerva shook her head, a slight smile around her lips.

"As though I would have stood by and let you do this alone."

"It's appreciated nevertheless." Hermione followed Minerva up the stairs, waiting until they were definitely out of earshot to speak again. "I've missed you so much."

"Nonsense; you've had plenty to keep you busy, I'm sure." There was brusqueness to her voice that caused Hermione to reach out and take hold of her wrist, forcing Minerva to turn and meet her gaze.

"Of course I missed you. I love you." Gently, she pulled Minerva closer. "Nothing can change that."

They walked on in silence towards Minerva's rooms. There were moments when Hermione considered asking about how the role of headmistress was affecting Minerva, but the pensive look on the older witch's face told her that it would be better to wait than broach the subject. She knew that it would be more effective to simply allow her words to sink in, because Minerva preferred to consider things carefully before accepting them.

"Make yourself comfortable." Following Minerva's instructions, Hermione sat down and watched as Minerva rifled through the contents of her desk, picked up a collection of letters. "These explain everything – take your time."

"You didn't say that Kingsley was involved! He's the Minister – surely there are more important things for him to be doing." Surprise coloured Hermione's tone, and she looked from Minerva to the familiar scrawl of Kingsley Shacklebolt's handwriting.

"And what could be more important than attempting to repay one of the three who put a stop to Tom Riddle's reign of terror?" A slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, Minerva handed over the small pile of letters.

Carefully, Hermione read through the various correspondences and worked out that her parents were living a comfortable life that was fairly similar to how they had lived in England. There were cultural trips to the Sydney Opera house and various other landmarks punctuating the journeys to work and evenings spent at their new home. She saw that they socialised with other couples and wondered, for the first time, if bringing them back was the right thing. Seeing that she was upset, Minerva took the letters from Hermione's shaking hands and set them on the coffee table.

"They're both absolutely fine, Hermione. You needn't worry." With her usual perceptiveness, Minerva realised that there was another problem. She placed a hand beneath Hermione's chin, forcing the younger witch to meet her deep green eyes. "Once the healers have restored their memories, your parents will both be delighted to come home."

"It's not that simple." Uncomfortable, Hermione shifted so that she was looking at her lap. "What if they can't forgive me? I did something terrible – I've often wondered why memory charms weren't classified as an Unforgivable. I erased everything important to them, and there's no guarantee that they'll ever get those things returned to them."

"Hermione..." A comforting hand came to rest on her back. "They love you very much, and they're sensible enough to realise that you did what you had to in order to save their lives. It probably won't be easy – I won't lie to you about that – however, once you've explained what it is that you have accomplished this year, they're going to be incredibly proud. Would Harry have organised the tent without you? Could he have cast the wards without your assistance? Would he have known that the sword had imbibed the Basilisk venom? You're an extraordinary witch."

"How is it that you always know what I need to hear?"Grateful, Hermione wrapped her arms around Minerva, glad to be able to hold her once again. "It's good to be back with you."

"I'll confess that I'm pleased to have you here with me. It's been... a trying few days, and this is a delightful reward."

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please review! **


	9. Chapter 9

**I am aware that I've turned into one of those fiends who updates sporadically. This must change. Encourage me by leaving reviews!**

**OoOoO**

After having been reassured that her parents were perfectly safe and received confirmation that she had indeed entered into a relationship with Minerva McGonagall, Hermione found that she was feeling calmer than she had for months, however she was nervous about her trip to the Ministry. Although her last trip to the governmental building had been incredibly dangerous, she was trying to accept that times had changed. However, it seemed that Minerva was conscious of the underlying wariness that would cause Hermione to experience a few scant moments of panic, because she had been eying her with concern throughout the morning.

Fortunately for Hermione, there was no opportunity for Minerva to question her about it because she had spent the morning preparing for her first staff meeting as the official Headmistress of Hogwarts and was so focussed on the task at hand that they were almost late for their appointment at the Ministry – almost, for Minerva was far too organised to risk tardiness. Still, she was forced to take advantage of her position as Headmistress of Hogwarts and apparate into London, Hermione holding onto her arm. When they arrived in the atrium, Hermione was tempted to ask Minerva if she really had to let go as she recalled her stint as Mafalda Hopkirk.

However, she released Minerva as soon as they arrived because of the number of Ministry employees scurrying around like ants. It was almost as though Minerva's presence was a barrier, because nobody bumped into her, nor did they get in her way. Keeping her head down, Hermione followed her towards the elevators. She couldn't help but pause when she saw that the fountain had been restored, only the way it gleamed suggesting that the feature was new or had ever been replaced by what could only be described as a perversion.

"Quickly." Minerva had noticed that she was no longer being followed and returned to Hermione's side. Realising that no response would be forthcoming, she lowered her voice and whispered into Hermione's ear. "I'm sorry; I should have warned you, but it slipped my mind completely. Come with be before they notice you, Hermione. We can discuss it as soon as we get downstairs."

Dazed, Hermione nodded.

As she began to follow Minerva through the atrium, Hermione heard the whispers begin to spread – whispers that signalled the beginning of being recognised by the public.

"Look! There's Hermione Granger." A lone voice called out, and within seconds the Ministry was aflame with the fact that a heroine was within their midst.

"I'm sorry, but I'm in a rush today." And with that she began to push through the jostling crowds, following Minerva and keeping her head down.

After being grasped and shouted at by about a hundred people that she didn't know, she all but fell into the elevator and was grateful when Minerva waved her wand and caused the grating to close before anyone could decide to accompany them.

"Are you alright?" Now that they were unobserved, Minerva wrapped a comforting arm around Hermione's waist.

Truthfully, the combination of the reaction to her presence, the speed at which the elevator was descending and nervousness about her parents had left Hermione feeling thoroughly ill. However, unwilling to cause Minerva any more stress, she nodded her head in response.

"It's so quiet at Hogwarts and the Weasleys' that I hadn't thought much about how people would feel about seeing me. Harry told me it was mad – I hadn't pictured anything like this, though. Maybe I should start reading the Prophet again..." For a brief moment she rested her head against Minerva's shoulder, stepping away again when the elevator arrived at their floor with a jolt.

"Hmm. On this level, I'd imagine that they'll know better than to harass you." Minerva walked smartly through the halls of the Ministry, and Hermione could only hope that she was right. Thankfully, they reached the Minister's office with minimal fuss. A young scribe was openly staring at Hermione, quill at a total standstill, however a warning glance from Minerva forced their eyes back to the neglected parchment.

When they arrived, Kingsley opened the door before either one of them had an opportunity to knock and ushered the two witches inside. Once the door had been closed, the noise from outside was blocked out completely. The office was tastefully furnished, and rather less Spartan than Hermione had imagined during the Scrimgeour regime. Then again, as Minister Kingsley would have the authority to redecorate.

"Minerva, Hermione, how are you both keeping?" His voice was warm and reassuring as they accepted the proffered seats.

"We're most well thank you, Kingsley. And what of Mr and Mrs Granger – how are they?" It was almost as though she had sensed all of Hermione's anxiety. Businesslike, Minerva continued. "That is to say, what progress has been made regarding the recovery of their memories?"

"Straight to the point, as always – if only more people here shared your attitude." Kingsley's smile was infectious. He turned to the younger witch, and the fact that his broad grin didn't waver dispelled some of her doubts. "Both of your parents are still doing fine, Hermione. Your spell was completely successful, according to the delegates from the Department of Mysteries, and so a full recovery is a definite possibility."

Relief surged through Hermione, although a part of her was panicked that the restoration of her parents' memories wouldn't be entirely possible – that they'd never remember their daughter, and whether or not they'd forgive her was another question altogether – or that the process would go horribly wrong, leaving them damaged for life.

"I see. How will they be returned to England?" Hermione tried to keep her voice even and did not allow herself to look to Minerva.

"The team of Healers who have agreed to take on their case believe that it would be least traumatic for your parents were they to be subdued, stunned before being brought to St. Mungo's by portkey. With them unconscious, it wouldn't do to risk splinching."

"Quite right." Minerva nodded her agreement. "When do you think would be the best time to bring them back?"

"I'd imagine that Hermione is going to want to devote her full attention to them once they are safely home," Kingsley paused, and she murmured her assent. "Also, the Healers and the delegates require a little more time to perfect the incantation – it is experimental magic, although not too risky. Try not to worry too much."

He hesitated, giving Hermione the impression that he wanted to say more. Too busy considering her parents' fate and the potential ramifications of her actions, it did not become instantly clear what else Kingsley wanted to say. Without such distractions, Minerva was less patient.

"And the trials, Minister? When are they to begin?"

"It's top secret, and although I hope they do not, I believe that the press will soon get wind of the dates – keep that in mind before disclosing what I am about to tell you. Minerva, it has been decided that you are to be called to testify against Dolores Umbridge next week. She's being tried for crimes against muggle-borns amongst other charges, and having worked alongside her you can provide an accurate character study."

Minerva's expression did not change, yet Hermione knew that a part of her felt a sense of relish. For her it would be an opportunity to see an enemy who had attacked not only Minerva, but her students too, brought to justice. Hermione also knew that she was already exhausted enough with her various responsibilities, and that yet another would stretch her thinly. An unsettling yet logical thought occurred to her.

"The trials... What about Harry, Ron and me – are we to be called to court?" Subconsciously, Hermione sat a little straighter. It seemed a responsible thing to do, yet it would doubtlessly prove to be a stressful experience and, much like Minerva, the last thing she needed was additional responsibilities.

"Harry Potter has been excused from all proceedings; however it would be much appreciated if you could provide evidence against the Death Eater Yaxley. Of course, you are not obliged to -" Kingsleys words made sense, and the last thing Hermione wanted was for her closest friend to have to spend yet more time thinking about all the things that had been wrong during the war.

"I'll do it." Realising that she had cut off the Minister for Magic, Hermione faltered. "Somebody has to, and after he came after us and caused Ron to splinch, I can't say that I have a problem with the idea."

Kingsley nodded his approval, and looked to Minerva for confirmation; the Minister was too wise to progress without the support of the Headmistress, especially after the Carrows and Dolores Umbridge before them had brought so much suffering into the halls of Hogwarts.

It appeared as though the Headmistress of Hogwarts was struggling with a dilemma. She had understood what Hermione had said, and yet concern was written across her delicate features. She frowned slightly, lips parted.

"Are you quite certain about this, Hermione? You're not obliged to do this, you know, and court hearings can be gruelling. You've suffered a great deal..." Briefly, her eyes flitted to the Minister before returning to Hermione. It was as though she was trying to express her concern in a way that wouldn't prove to be compromising. Hermione was touched by the fact that she was prepared to show any concern beyond the expected at all before their mutual acquaintance, as it demonstrated the importance of her own wellbeing to Minerva.

"No more than anyone else has. I'll be fine." Hermione gave her a brief smile, wishing she could add that they would _both _be fine. "Thank you very much, Kingsley."

"No, I must thank you both for being so agreeable. I'll be in touch about the details of the trial, and also your parents, Hermione." He looked regretfully towards the memos that had accumulated on the corner of his desk throughout the conversation. "If there is nothing else, I must continue seeing to business. You may use my fireplace if you'd prefer to avoid the commotion."

"Perhaps that would be germane." Minerva stood, smoothing down her robes. She nodded to the Minister before walking towards the fireplace. Following suit, Hermione joined her and allowed Minerva to take hold of her arm. She was still in awe of the fact that her reunion with her parents was in sight.

Together, they stepped into the fireplace. With her usual grace, Minerva managed to make a smooth entrance into her living room. Hermione stumbled after her, falling into the pair of waiting arms.

"Thank you so much." She tilted her head upwards and kissed Minerva sweetly.

The older witch returned her embrace enthusiastically before pulling away, eyebrows raised quizzically.

"Whatever for?" Gently, she brushed a hand down to the small of Hermione's back. It was a gesture that made Hermione's heart race. She could barely bring herself to reply.

"Without you, they couldn't have found my parents so quickly, or worked out what to do." She tucked a stray strand of hair behind Minerva's ear, caressing the angular line of her jaw.

"I'm quite sure that I don't know what you're talking about." Minerva laughed musically as Hermione kissed her neck. Emboldened, Hermione allowed herself to begin to nibble at the hollow of her clavicle, licking away each tiny hurt caused by her teeth. She was rewarded with a warm sigh.

"You're so lovely." Hermione snuggled against Minerva's side, content.

"Mm." For a moment, Minerva allowed her head to rest on top of Hermione's. "As much as I'm enjoying this, I'd better go; it doesn't do to be late to a staff meeting, especially not when I'm responsible for scheduling them."

Reluctantly, Hermione released her. She knew how important work was to Minerva, and so was unwilling to give in to the temptation to initiate one last kiss – not even for good luck.

"You're right. You have nothing to worry about, though." Hermione gave a reassuring smile and watched as Minerva checked her appearance before the mirror, a pale hand brushing her neck. It didn't look as though there would be any marks, for which Hermione was silently thankful. No matter how close Minerva was with the members of the Hogwarts faculty, teasing was sure to make her uncomfortable. And then there was the issue of who she could have been bitten by...

"You have a knack for being correct, Hermione, and so I'll place more faith in your prediction than I did in Sybil's; this morning at breakfast she told me that I was in for a day full of misery, and also that I should avoid dark strangers."

Hermione snorted.

"Tell me all about it when you get back, especially if you meet a dark stranger." The quip earned a smile from the Headmistress of Hogwarts. Satisfied that her appearance lived up to her reputation as a highly professional educator, Minerva turned and headed for the portrait.

Once she had gone, Hermione was left to consider her good fortune. She had every confidence in Minerva's ability, however this didn't stop her from internally wishing the Headmistress every success. The portrait swung back into place, and Hermione went to find the book she had been reading.

"Good luck."

**OoOoO**

The staff meeting went smoothly, as the Hogwarts faculty were all comfortable regarding Minerva as an authority figure as well as a friend, and so did the remainder of the week. It was an enjoyable time, which heightened Hermione's sense of anxiety as the court dates loomed ever closer, an ugly blot on a near perfect horizon. There were a few occasions in which the trials completely escaped her thoughts, and on these occasions she was almost always engaged in a passionate exchange of kisses with one Minerva McGonagall. It seemed that Minerva too was thinking more and more of her young lover, and finding it increasingly hard to realign the trains of thought knocked off track by a certain brunette, although she didn't seem to be suffering quite as much. That or, as Hermione suspected, she was simply more adept at concealing the thoughts that flickered behind her emerald eyes – this was for the best as, unlike Hermione, she had work to do.

However, with the Ministry hearings only two days away, Minerva was barely concentrating at all on the paperwork that came with her new position. She had given up and disappeared into her bedroom, murmuring something about wanting to get changed in order to have an early night.

Sleep was the last thing Hermione wanted – in an illogical way, it would only bring her own role as witness one step closer, and since it had started to rain that morning, she had been strangely restless. She could have gone outside, but it was too warm and too humid to be any fun even with a shield charm or an umbrella.

She stretched, setting her book on the coffee table. Minerva had been gone for a long time – at least two chapters of her Arithmancy book, although Hermione suspected that she had lost track at some point – and so investigating seemed like a good option. Although Minerva hadn't confided in her, Hermione could tell that she was worrying about giving evidence against Umbridge, whose trial had been brought forward due to the Ministry wishing to send out a message about corruption having come to an end. With this in mind, she knocked on Minerva's door.

Save for rain hitting the castle windows, there was no sound. Hermione paused before knocking again.

"Minerva?" She pushed the door open slowly so that it wouldn't creak and wake the older witch in the unlikely event of her having gone to bed without saying goodnight.

There was no need for to have worried – Minerva was before her vanity, clad in only a nightgown, without seeing anything. One hand was resting on her chest, fingers wrapped around the base of her neck. She barely stirred at the interruption.

"Minerva, are you alright?" Hermione crossed the room and placed a tentative hand on Minerva's back.

"Yes, yes..." She blinked, taking in the sight of Hermione's reflection standing just behind her own. "I got a little distracted – that's all."

Knowing that arguing or prying were never a good idea with Minerva, Hermione lifted a silver-backed hairbrush from the tray and began to work it through the locks of Minerva's hair as gently as she could. It was lustrous and silken to touch.

"You have beautiful hair, you know." Hermione didn't pause in her ministrations however, due to their close proximity, she did notice the way Minerva tensed.

"You don't have to do that -"

"No, but I want to. Unless it bothers you?" She ceased to brush until Minerva gave a small shake of her head. "I really do enjoy doing this."

They continued in silence for several minutes, Hermione savouring the task at hand and Minerva focussing on her thoughts. Finally, she began to speak.

"It hasn't bothered me until now." Minerva looked down at her hands, folded on her lap, not witnessing the look of shock that passed over her companion's face.

Her sense of peacefulness was shattered by a few choice words. Hermione felt icy fingers grip her heart. Surely, Minerva didn't mean that she was having second thoughts about their relationship – not now that they seemed to have established a comfortable routine with one another.

"What hasn't?" As she forced herself to speak, Hermione felt as though her mouth belonged to someone else, so difficult was it to get the words out.

Sensing her lover's panic, Minerva reached up and placed her hand over where Hermione was grasping her shoulder. She brushed Hermione's fingers reassuringly before returning her hand to her lap.

"Not this, Hermione. It's..." She sighed heavily in a way that made Hermione doubt she was handling the situation, Minerva's apprehension, very well.

"Is it something I can help with?" Realising that by prompting Minerva, Hermione had broken one of her own cardinal rules, she continued brushing in an attempt to negate the question. When it seemed as though no response would be forthcoming, Minerva finally spoke again.

"You are so very patient with me when I grow distant." She gave a brittle smile.

"I don't plan on changing that in the near or distant future." Satisfied with her handiwork, Hermione set down the brush and began to arrange Minerva's hair into the braid she favoured for sleeping purposes. A hand around her wrist secured Hermione's attention.

"My only qualm is that I suspect I am asking too much of you." Minerva waved away all of the protests that Hermione wanted to voice. She inhaled slowly, as though steeling herself. "I was never vain, until you. It was never bothersome unless it ached..."

With deft fingers, Minerva undid the top few buttons of her nightgown and held the material aside in order for Hermione to see the bruise-like red marks on the valley between her breasts. It occurred to Hermione that Umbridge's attack had left some minor scarring. The thought of the sadistic woman causing Minerva so much hurt and then to force the Headmistress to doubt herself, as she was so clearly doing, made Hermione experience a surge of loathing. Realising that Minerva was waiting for a response, she forced herself to stop dwelling upon her hatred of Umbridge.

"You're so beautiful, and so brave – I'm the lucky one, really." Hermione watched Minerva shake her head and was thankful that there was no further argument. She knelt. "Turn around."

Confused, Minerva did as she was instructed and was rewarded with the ghost touch of Hermione's mouth against each one of her wounds.

"What on earth are you doing?" Her cheeks coloured a warm shade of scarlet that suggested Minerva was growing flustered.

"This." Hermione kissed Minerva hungrily, enjoying having her mouth so thoroughly explored. Taking advantage of her position, she cupped Minerva's breasts and massaged gently, eliciting a throaty gasp, before slipping a hand into her nightgown and stroking the perfect skin beneath.

"That's – ah," Minerva gave a soft groan as Hermione's mouth went the same way as her hands, gingerly at first. Hermione continued, growing in confidence, until she wriggled free and stood, holding her nightgown shut. "Hermione, unless you wish to continue, I'd suggest that we say goodnight and go our separate ways until the morning."

As she took in the sight of Minerva standing above her, pale skin flushed and breathing heavily, her dark hair delightfully rumpled in the wake of their passion, Hermione realised that she most certainly didn't want to stop. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to get into the four poster bed with Minerva and... what? Well, she wasn't entirely sure. As with most things, Hermione understood the theory of what was to come next, only she had never put it into practice. On shaking legs, she climbed to her feet.

"I want to stay. I want to..." It was Hermione's turn to blush. Nervous, she sat on the edge of Minerva's bed and tried not to stare at the curves of Minerva's slender body, so gloriously unlike her own.

"Yes?" Minerva sat beside her, placing a hand on Hermione's thigh.

"I want to be with you, but I'm not sure how."

Immediately, Minerva's demeanour changed. She became more serious than flirtatious.

"So, you haven't -"

"No."

"I see. Try to relax, and if you want to stop then feel free to say – preferably sooner rather than later." With a hint of a smile, Minerva cupped Hermione's cheek.

"Okay." Closing the space between them, Hermione leant over to kiss her lover.

In due time, her worries (along with every other coherent thought) left her head as Hermione rested her head on the pillow and experienced what could only be described as absolute bliss. Their limbs intertwined, wrapping more tightly together and then falling still time and time again in the cycle of passion until both witches were ready to embrace a deep sleep, covered by a fine sheen of sweat and cotton sheets.

**OoOoO**

**Thanks for reading. Please, please review. **


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